


Kingdom of the Southern Sun

by 09cityskylights



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fighter Mickey, Gallaghers are Royalty, Gallavich, Greek/Roman themes, Historical Inaccuracy, King Ian, M/M, Mashup of History, Mickey is poor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 17:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/09cityskylights/pseuds/09cityskylights
Summary: The Kingdom of Νότια πλευρά is one of four in the region, and it's ruler finds himself unexpectedly captivated when one day while visiting his city streets, he finds a man unlike any he has ever seen before."The man’s pale alabaster skin, touched with just lightest shade of gold from the sun, has a constellation of the palest freckles painted across it. His arms are smooth, perfectly muscled, his scraped hands suggesting that he is a working man. But those eyes, sky colored eyes, are the most beautiful thing of all".The young King Ian, new to the throne, is determined to be a better king than the late Francis, but he bears the weight of both tradition and law on his shoulders. Can he hold the crown and still be with the man he loves?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back! Going to do my best to stick with this one :) Several ideas for this fic came from the movie "Pompeii"- but there is no volcano involved here. Hope you like :)

_Kingdom of the Southern Sun_

 “Grapes. The green ones, not the red” Ian instructs absentmindedly as he holds a steady and thoughtful gaze outside of his royal carriage’s window at the filled streets of Νότια πλευρά.

“Are you hungry, sire?” Ezio, one of his advisors, questions, snapping his tanned fingers towards their travelling servant to serve his king posthaste.

Distracted by something other than his advisor’s voice, Ian’s red eyebrow twitches in interest as his eyes roam over the tanned men moving through the streets while crowds of his enthusiastic subjects stop to admire the royal carriage or nod their respects towards him. His older brother Phillip, fondly nicknamed Lip by the other royal siblings, laughs in amusement from his place sitting beside him. “Yes, he’s hungry Ezio. But not for the fruits or cheeses we are carrying with us on this trip”.

“Ah yes, I see” Ian’s advisor nods, not a trace of embarrassment in his tone. The young king’s preferences were not unknown to most, yet most in these lands did not find them unusual. Pleasure was a gift one was open to seek wherever one preferred. The only unusual thing about King Ian was that his were not merely _preference_ s. Unbeknownst to his subjects, Νότια πλευρά was never to receive a queen during his reign, if he had anything to say about it. And he did.

The young king would not be persuaded to take a wife, yet most of the current royal family did not entirely mind this as long as he kept the information from stretching any further than their inner circle. This was especially so of his younger brother Carl, who was next in line for the throne should Ian never produce a son. Officially, his older brother Lip should have been the one wearing the weighted crown right now, but he had willingly turned over his right to the throne so he could enthusiastically devote his life to studies and making fantastical inventions instead, something he was quite driven by.

As a new king, Ian was as kind and giving a soul as his father King Francis had not been, though he did on some occasions have moments that puzzled even the royal court. On most days he was charming and friendly, enthusiastic about everything he laid his eyes on. But on more rare occasions he awoke morose and distant, unwilling to leave his chambers even to eat.

Fortunately, the royal apothecary had been working on antidotes and potions to help ease his emotions ever since he was crowned that had previously been known to swing like a pendulum, and with the nimblest minds in the region working on a cure, he had found much relief in their concoctions.

The royal carriage finally stops near the town square, yet much to his advisor’s surprise, Ian begins to exit the carriage with him instead of just waiting inside. Most kings, in fact all Ezio had ever served, were rather entitled, lazy creatures even. He wonders if King Ian doubts his skill in scouting to find him some company for the evening.

“Sire, it is not necessary. I promise to select the finest specimens for you to choose from”.

“Well, I wish to see my people” King Ian smiles, appearing more than confident as he opens the carriage door and steps out onto the sun warmed street. Respectfully, all his subjects in the nearby vicinity cease what they are doing and step back to make way for him as he makes his way around the square with his advisor at his side, chattering in his ear about an upcoming royal banquet.

Ian hears little of what he says, instead enjoying the hustle of the market. Sometimes he misses the freedom simply being a young prince afforded, back then if he covered his hair, he could go quite unnoticed if he wanted to, and poke about the shops. But he does appreciate the power he now holds as a king.

“M’lady, is that your child?” he suddenly asks, stopping to point at a squalling infant held awkwardly in an unkempt lady’s arm. The thin and ragged-looking woman looks up at him uncertainly from her spot begging in the street and quickly nods, “Y-yes your majesty. My son, Belen”.

“May I?”

Uncertainly, she holds out her baby to King Ian in wonder, who picks him up and holds him upwards, smiling at him. The baby immediately stops crying, now drooling and looking at Ian’s bejeweled crown with wide green eyes instead while Ezio waits impatiently for his King’s attention again.  

Many of the other villagers in the streets have now stopped their business as well, looking over at him with similar expressions of surprise on their faces. Ian had been king for less than six months now, and he was so entirely different from the previous rather brutish King Francis, most of them didn’t know how to react to his presence, or his unusual actions.

“He’s lovely” Ian finally says, handing the baby back to its poor mother before adding after a moment’s thought, “I wish for you and your husband to join my court for dinner tonight, if you so desire”.

“I..”

The street woman simply looks shocked at the invitation and almost loses her voice, but seeing the disapproving look from the advisor at her apparent hesitation, she quickly catches herself and nods, “Yes of course sire, I am honored, but my husband is…passed. It will just be me and my son joining you”.

“My sincere apologies for your loss… I will see you and your son this evening then”.

After a warm parting smile, Ian begins walking again while the woman practically bursts into tears behind him, the noise of the streets covering her very much vocal admiration and disbelief from Ian’s ears. Ezio’s voice is not so easily swallowed up however.

“Sire, such a generous heart you have, but perhaps-“

“I really don’t want to hear it Ezio”.

His advisor still begins to speak tentatively about the expected standards of guests in the royal hall, a speech he’s heard before, but Ian suddenly halts, his eyes and mind now captivated by a man across the street who is arguing with another, and apparently about to throw fists.

Mistaking his lord’s apparent interest in the situation, Ezio loyally hurries across the street to end the fight before it begins, scolding the men and remind them of their King’s royal presence while Ian simply stands still, rolling the gold ring on his finger as he watches them closely, mesmerized.

One of the men seems to be nothing more than a sleazy looking trickster, but the second stands out quite brilliantly from most of Ian’s other subjects. His skin, like Ian’s, has barely turned golden brown from the ever-present sun, and his hair, his hair is black like the ink that flows from a quill. His frame is stocky, strong and muscled but not thin, and Ian feels an unmistakable interest stir between his legs at the sight of him.

“Ezio!” he calls out, noticing how both men have stopped fighting to bow towards him, though the black haired one still appears disgruntled. Ian gives a subtle nod, indicating his wish for Ezio to invite the singular man back to the castle.

The dark-haired man looks up at him while Ezio pulls him aside to quietly relay Ian’s wishes, his gaze across the street hard to read, but it’s a sharp and steady one, one most of his subjects wouldn’t dare to openly give their King, kind reputation or not.

Ian is rather intrigued by it.

During evening supper in the royal hall, though the king is polite to all the usual members of his court, and even stops to visit the mother from the streets with her infant, he is completely distracted thinking about the attractive man from the market. He was incredible from head to toe, and made Ian feel he should visit the streets of the city more often if sights like that were to be seen.

Of course, he had several experiences with other men before he was king, but as a teenager he often went for opportunity rather real attraction. As a _man_ , things were different.

There was no need to hastily mess around in the stables when he could bring a man to his chambers for a night. He wonders what the other man was thinking about as he gazed back at him from across the street earlier today.

Did he have any idea how desirable he was?

Only the baby Belen’s sharp cries of hunger for his mother’s milk towards dessert finally snap Ian out of his reverie, and he asks his guards to halt the street woman before she leaves. “Sire, I apologize, he can not yet eat but milk, and I cannot presently nurse” she frets, trying to quiet him as Ian approaches her. He just smiles, “Don’t apologize. I stopped you because I wished to ask if you would like to stay here, working in the castle perhaps. We can always use a new hand in the kitchens or preparing rooms each day, I’m sure of it. You can bring your son along with you during the day if you like”.

The young woman’s eyes widen at the opportunity, and for a moment she looks as though she wishes she could reach out and touch him to thank him. Of course, such uninvited contact with a King could be considered highly offensive, in most people’s eyes.

“Bless, my King. We are honored” she finally whispers.

“Wonderful. Guards, please bring her to the maid’s chambers. Ask them to prepare a room for her and her son to have while the two of you accompany her to bring any belongings she has from home. I would also like an extra nanny goat to be kept nearby for milk for the baby”.

“Yes sire”. His guards bow and take the grateful woman with them, her skinny baby drooling happily in her arms while Ian lifts his hand to wave goodbye at him.

Finished his own barely touched dinner now, and still feeling distracted after returning to his own table, Ian finally flags Ezio down to his end of it before muttering in his ear, “The one from earlier today, where is he?”

“In the kitchens with the servants my lord, supping with them”.

Ian nods, wishing he could have just had the man eat at his own table. Though sexual occurrences between men were not illegal in any sense here, it still wasn’t considered proper to openly flaunt such affairs, with men _or_ women, when you were a king. And the more he’s thought about him, the more he even wants to just _look at him._

“I’m retreating to my chambers now. Please send him as soon as he is able to come”.

Ezio nods his understanding and Ian stands, giving a stiff bow to his court and addressing them with a wave before he takes his rather quick leave, another uncustomary habit of his. Ian had never been taken by the frills and the jewels or the gold and the power, and the unnecessary attention to everything he did as a royal son.

He didn’t want to be like his father… selfish, conceited and ungiving. He wanted to be more generous as a king, a chance that as the second eldest, he had never expected to get. Luck smiled on him this year.

Ian’s kingly bedchambers had been designed by himself after his crowning, and he breathes out a sigh of relief as he closes the heavy wooden bedroom doors behind himself, his guards never too far down the hall. He asks that they don’t wait right outside the doors whether he is sleeping or not, because as thick as the walls are, he feels caged without true privacy.

His perfectly crafted bed is constructed of dark and solid wood, draped with deep red sheets and comforters, outlined with roped golden trim and thread, and carved with intricate lion’s heads at each post. Heavy curtains keep the bright sunlight out of the room when he wishes, and the floors are sleek and made of dark veined marble, circling a round heated bathing pool in the left corner of the room, placed strategically in front of an ever-going fire.

Ian finds solace here, and invites very few guests to his personal chambers.

Only fifteen minutes or so of anticipation pass before he hears a guard knocking hard at his door, and he raises his head from where he sits on a comfortable chair several feet away from his bathing pool and clears his throat.

 “Come in”.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sire”.

One of Ian’s guards holds the heavy wooden door open, and in walks the dark-haired man from the market square. As soon as he sets eyes on him, Ian can barely keep himself from drawing in his breath audibly.

He’s even more stunning in person, the kind of man who inspires artists.

Seeing the look of pure wonder on his king’s face, Ian’s guard respectfully steps away and closes the door behind himself while the man now inside does a small customary bow towards his king, his blue eyes bound to the marbled floor until Ian motions with his hand for him to come closer.

He’ll never understand why so many kings wanted to instill fear in their subjects, when it was so much better to be approachable.

The man’s walk towards him now however appears confident, and unashamed, with even just the slightest permission from Ian to come forward. Ian feels a stir inside his chest at the sight, and when the man’s eyes rise to meet his own, his heart seems to skip a beat.

Eyes, piercing blue, stare boldly back at him beneath inquisitive dark eyebrows, even though a slight flush of color rises in the mans cheeks as they make eye contact.

Getting up from his chair and walking straight up to the man to analyze him closer, King Ian now quietly holds his breath. The man’s naturally pale alabaster skin, touched with just lightest shade of gold from the sun, has a constellation of the palest freckles painted across it. His arms are smooth, perfectly muscled, his scraped hands suggesting that he is a working man. But those eyes, sky colored eyes, are the most beautiful thing of all.

Ian’s never seen anything quite like him in all of Νότια πλευρά.

“What’s your name?” he asks in awe, noticing in confusion how the man looks up with some slight surprise, and perhaps even disbelief at his tone.

“…Mikhailo Aleksandr, your grace” he finally offers, eyes down again.

“Mikhailo, would you mind joining me for a while in my bedchambers this evening?” Ian asks hopefully. That certainly gets the man to give him a look, and to forget himself for a moment, “Already here, ain’t I? Your majesty” he hastily adds, catching himself.

Ian tries not to laugh, surprised to find his own cheeks now warming with the humor of the moment, “What I mean to say is, are you opposed to-“

“Of course not, sire”.

Ian tries again. He knows that any of his subjects who were loyal enough, and perhaps feared refusing him, would say that, but he doesn’t look for that in a sexual partner. Just a willingness to fuck. He wants passion and desire, mutually. He wants a man that will moan for more, not just brace himself for the impact.

And when it comes to this man, _this_ man, he wants to taste every inch of that body. Feel that skin beneath his tongue, bring those perfectly shaped lips to his own, pull him in closer against his own chest while _he-_

“Do you consort with women usually, or men, Mikhailo Aleksandr?” he asks bluntly. The handsome man frowns slightly, glancing sideways before he shrugs, as if he is feeling a little defensive. “Uh…men. And if you don’t mind, your majesty, you can call me Mickey. My born name is a mouthful”.

Ian grins, privately loving how Mickey is obviously struggling to be formal over his clearly normally brash nature, something he had tried to cover himself once becoming King, as per his advisor’s recommendations.  

“I don’t mind a mouthful, Mickey. Would you mind disrobing? I’d like to see your body. You can bathe in my pool”. Ian gestures towards the heated bath to his right while Mickey glances over at it, nodding before he slowly begins to undress.

One hand slides to push the material covering his shoulder first, a quick untie elsewhere dropping the tanned material to his feet.

Ian steps back to sit back down in his plush bedroom chair, reaching towards his stand for a goblet and a pitcher of red wine to sip at while he watches the gorgeous man bare himself to him.

Now undressed, Mickey pauses just a moment before he steps down into the pool, unable to hide the dirt, scrapes, or bruises quite literally littering his body, and Ian wonders what his profession is for a brief moment. But aside from some obvious surface damage, Ian’s eyes roam approvingly over Mickey’s perfectly smooth body, almost hairless it seems save for his legs, and a dark tangle of short hair growing over a cock now flush in color from the pool’s heat, perfectly cut and not lacking in any size or girth.

Turning to face him fully, though the action clearly takes courage, Mickey automatically bites the corner of his lip when he notices the rising push from inside Ian’s robes, but neither man comments on it.

Instead, Ian watches the man start to bathe in silence, focusing more on his face now. The way his blue eyes close in comfort at the warmth, at the soft oils scenting the water. For a moment, he seems to almost forget where he is, simply appreciating the peace and the luxury, and Ian finds himself wanting to give him more of it.

But then, noticing Mickey reach down to rub himself clean beneath the warm water, he wonders what other men have been lucky enough to have bed such a magnificent man, and then he feels the briefest flash of surprising jealousy.

Not long after this flash, Mickey ducks beneath the surface of the warm scented water and comes back up with a small gasp, his pink lips parted and his dark hair now dripping as he tells his King, “I’m clean now, your majesty”.

It’s obvious what he is implying, and there is certainly no part of Ian that doesn’t want that from him… but _something_ about this man is different.

Ian no longer wants to _just_ consume him and then throw him away, like most men he finds pleasure with. As is expected of a king, unless marriage is involved. He can’t simply bed the man and send him on his way, never to see him again.

“Come here” Ian commands softly, his cock stiffening further in contest with his more meaningful thoughts as the man steps up and out of the pool, dripping, his own manhood showing his obvious returned interest. When Mickey stops in front of him, however, Ian rises from his chair, reaching out slowly for Mickey’s face instead of grabbing him.

The other man swallows hard as Ian’s fingers touch his cheek gently before quickly dropping away. “Tell me about yourself” Ian says softly, intense green eyes keeping their hold. He suddenly wonders everything about this man. Where was he from? What did he do? What did he enjoy? …What did he think about his king?

Instead of giving some detail or sharing some thoughts to feed Ian’s desire for knowledge, Mickey surprisingly steps away from him, seeming to be growing more concerned. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes of course” Ian answers, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

“Why did you invite me here? I thought you wanted to…” Mickey trails off, “Fuck?”

Ian sighs, now feeling slightly ashamed for his initially transparent needs. “Well I did. And I’m enjoying seeing you like this, I won’t lie. But…I’m sure you are aware of the tradition. The only one a king may bed with more than once is their future queen”.

Forehead furrowing, Mickey looks more agitated now than confused, and his body language quickly changes, becoming closed off rather than open as it had been only moments before.

“Not to be rude, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

The dreamlike state ends, abruptly. Ian, much to his own surprise blushes, wondering if he’s made a mistake. Saying this much, bringing this man to his chambers at all and admitting to his rapidly developing feelings.  But he can’t help himself now, and he tries to make the other understand.

“You are too beautiful a man to just throw away, Mikhailo Aleksandr. You’ve had me captivated since I first saw you today, in the streets of my kingdom. I assumed you might be loyal enough to indulge me, but seeing you…wanting me back, and talking to me even just a little, my interest now extends beyond one night”.

Against Ian’s best intentions though, his speech seems to have made the other man even more suspicious, and now he is pulling his robes back on as he states almost coldly, “You don’t know me”.

Seeing his new interest now heading for the door, Ian can’t describe the anxious pull that comes over him. He’s brutally confused, why is the man offended by his sincerity?  And how does he walk so confidently away from his King?

But Ian’s never felt so drawn to another before, and he desperately calls out as he swallows his pride, “I want to though. I want to know you”.

Clearly deciding he doesn’t need any royal permission to leave the King’s bedchambers, Mickey continues to head straight for the door, and in response Ian uses his authority in a way he doesn’t like to.  

“Stop” he commands, but although Mickey stops, he doesn’t take his hand away from the wood of the door he’s now reached.

He turns briefly, eyes leaving Ian’s and heading back to the floor, just as they had been when he first entered. “You’re the king. And I’m…I’m… fuck, never mind”.

After the bitter sounding words leave Mickey’s soft-looking lips, Ian watches through concerned eyes as the man then swiftly leaves, the King unable to think of a single word to make him stay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this chapter because it was getting too long, but that means I will update again sooner with the second half :)

 “Quit moping” Lip says pointedly to Ian two weeks later, while the rest of the royal siblings are contentedly watching Carl hunt partridges in the land just beyond the royal gardens after breakfast.

He’s exceptionally fond of crossbows and loads them disturbingly quickly to go after just about anything that moves, after sending one of his dogs to flush out anything that might be hiding of course.

“Moping? Why is he moping?”

Their beautiful older sister Fiona looks over at Ian in concern, her dark brown eyes clearly stating what she is thinking without her even having to verbalize it. But before Ian can shake his head to reassure her that he _is_ in fact taking his potions and _is_ in good health, Lip speaks for him, “He met some peasant last week who didn’t satisfy him, and instead of just getting another, he’s insisting on having Ezio visit the market every day just to look for him”.

Ian glares at his brother while Fiona looks genuinely surprised at this news, Debbie too. “That’s not what happened. And he’s not just _some peasant_ , so shut your entitled mouth” Ian warns.

His kindness towards his subjects didn’t entirely extend towards his older brother, well, not when he was hassling him at least.

“Ian, a commoner? Is that really wise?” Fiona asks carefully, like she is trying to decipher for herself the answer at the same time she asks the question. A warm breeze drifts over the royal siblings as they sit together near a bubbling fountain, all dressed formally today in anticipation of another royal guest this evening, their minds growing further from the spectacle taking place in front of them at this discussion.

“Got one! Bitch!” Carl hollers from a distance, turning his head back for their approval while one of the hunting dogs runs to retrieve his kill. They all quickly nod and smile at him before going back to their fervent conversation, Debbie only keenly listening while her older siblings squabble.

“How many commoners do you take to your bed? I don’t say anything about it, and I know you’ve had that boy from the carriages over more to your room than once” Ian points out, but of course, his older sister has an argument ready to fire back.

“His great-uncle is a duke, and besides, _I’m_ not the king! You are!”

Ian rubs his temples in exasperation, “Exactly, so about we drop this? Jesus, you guys are giving me a headache, and I have to meet with King Everett this afternoon”.  

“Are you discussing the trade agreement?” Debbie asks, after remaining quiet while her siblings argued about their romantic conquests.

Ian shakes his head tiredly, “I don’t think so Debs. He’s a big fan of the arenas though, and his champion is visiting Νότια πλευρά today, so as a formality I’ve been advised to attend with him before inviting him to dine at the castle tonight”.

Reluctantly, Ian had agreed with his royal council that it was best for him to go after hearing their arguments. King Everett and himself had little in common unfortunately, and important trade with the North had been increasingly uneasy ever since his father had died, so he would at least have to pretend to like the blood sport today, to try and get on the other King’s good side.

It wasn’t that Ian didn’t like a good fight, he did, but he knew that the fighters in city arenas often had no choice in their positions and could even end up dead during the battle. If the fight started to go on for too long, weapons would be introduced. His first fight Frank ever brought him to, he was sitting not far from a woman right as she become a widow in the stands, her husband viciously impaled just below them with a longsword. He never wanted to go back after that.

But then again, assuming it doesn’t reach the weaponry stage, and most arena fights don’t, maybe some mind-numbing fighting could help him snap back to normal. Ever since Mickey left his chambers, Ian had wanted to see him again. Talk to him, if he could. Try and explain that he meant no harm, that he truly did wish to know the man. And touching, that would come too. That would definitely come too, as soon as he could figure out a way to change his circumstances, or work around them.

All Ian had dreamt about every night since then was the man’s smooth, almost marble like skin, toned and dripping, naked and waiting, right in front of him. In his dreams, he often sank to his knees in front of the other man, who took off Ian’s crown and tossed it aside carelessly while Ian took him in his mouth. It was bewildering, but so heated, and much to his dismay, Ian woke up with messy sheets more than once after these dreams, disappointed to find they were only just that. Dreams.

He had to find that man.

-

A dull roar pulses through Mickey’s ear drums as he closes his eyes to calm himself, his pale hands resting on the barred gate holding him back from the arena while he grits his teeth. Every week, whenever the gate opens on his scheduled day, he faces one of Νότια πλευρά’s other arena fighters or one from a neighboring region, often to near death.

On occasion, men _have_ actually died in the blood sport, but the uncertainty of it all only drives the city crowds wilder. What do they have to lose? Their lives aren’t at stake. But men like Mickey, with no father’s trade to be raised into, or those freed from slavery in other regions, often had no choice but to enter into the rings to earn enough coin to keep themselves alive. It was a bottom of the barrel way to earn a living, for sure, but technically Mickey was owned, and had little choice in the matter.

Today he had somewhat of an interesting fight planned at least, but that did put some more pressure on his back indeed. The neighboring region of Βόρεια πλευρά had a visiting champion present today, as well as their King, who was quite fond of the barbaric sport, much like the late King Francis had been.

Kings. None had ever thrown so much as a kind glance Mickey’s way previously, simply watching him through sharp entitled eyes as he was beaten bloody for their entertainment, wrestling in the dirt with another man just as desperate as he was to survive. But then the new king, the copper and gold haired Ian, had found him in the street arguing for his meager pay last week, and chosen him. Chosen him to join him in his bedchambers.

Mickey had initially thought to himself that he was damn lucky to be chosen by such a handsome and young _king_ for some release, a release he longed for after his fights. But he had been brought to the King’s chambers and told a ridiculous story instead, embarrassing himself with his obvious want while the King said he wanted to _know about him_. Angry, Mickey took a risky move and left without the king’s permission, but he didn’t regret it.

If the King knew who he was, and what he did, he would have thrown Mickey out in disgust himself. Bullshit any man, any _King_ , wished to know Mickey. Nobody gave a shit about him, let alone the untouchable King Ian. He must get some sort of sick entertainment watching peasants drool over him. Much like King Francis got it watching them die for him.

This new angry thought gives Mickey a surge of energy he can use for his fight, and just in time.  

A familiar click sounds and the gate begins to open, Mickey immediately striding into the arena, appearing as confident and as aggressive as he always does, and hearing a resounding cheer from the home crowd in response. He fights often and well enough that many of the spectators recognize him, and he fists the air before roaring in the direction of his opponent, a taller but equally muscled man from Βόρεια πλευρά who growls like an animal in response, beating on his chest before he turns to signal towards his king respectfully with two fingers.

Mickey’s sharp blue eyes follow his opponent’s fingers in the direction of the plump and bawdy King Everett, who is sitting beside no other than…

Fuck. Mickey swallows hard, immediately noticing how tense King Ian appears as he looks down at the fighter representing his region today. Clearly, the king had no idea this was his profession when he chose Mickey to visit him in his chambers. Not a fan of the sport himself, Ian had never attended any of Mickey’s fights before. 

Though his heart is racing faster now, and his head pounds with shame, Mickey knows people are watching, and he respectfully signals to his King as is expected before the horn is sounded to begin the fight, both men pacing in slow, wide circles while simultaneously advancing towards each other.

 _Just fucking focus_ , Mickey thinks, forget about the fucking man in the stands who has this confounding effect on you.

His guided thoughts seem to make no difference to his actions however, and he starts out weak, leaving himself vulnerable while he advances more aggressively than is wise, causing a solid a fist to land directly in his stomach. Swallowing back his groan of pain and nausea, Mickey in response jumps upwards just enough to bring his knee up hard into the other man’s lightly padded crotch, and then harder into his face when he lowers automatically to protect himself from another southward strike.

Beyond this initial solid move however, this fight seems to go on and on, and each moment spent throwing a fist or blocking one seems to just take away from moments he could be… he finally looks up, right up at where the young, redheaded king sits, watching him fight.

King Ian blinks back at him unhappily, and Mickey feels dazed for a moment, numbly coming to a realization that perhaps the king had not been mocking him the previous week, and maybe he did care to know him.

_Crack_

Or maybe he’d just been hit in the head too many times.


	4. Chapter 4

Guilty nausea churns in Ian’s stomach as he realizes _he’s_ unintentionally thrown Mickey off by being present at this fight. Of course, he truly had no idea Mickey was involved in the city’s fighting arena when he’d met him a fortnight ago, but that doesn’t make watching the beat down Mickey is getting any easier to watch.

The confident, almost primal look on Mickey’s handsome face had disappeared the second he looked up to see his King sitting there in the stands, morphing into the briefest look of deep shame before he threw himself into the fight anyways, against an opponent no more muscular but significantly taller than he was.

While fighters were a source of great entertainment for a city, the citizens viewed them as being worth little more than the animals they liked to see fight in this same arena as well, and Ian can’t help but feel a little shocked that the man’s occupation is one so low. No wonder he didn’t want to say anything about himself to his King. He must have thought Ian would be disgusted by him.

Feeling horrible at this realization, Ian watches with nervous and bated breath as Mickey finally gets slammed in the head while briefly glancing up towards him, looking like he might fall from the shuddering impact against his skull.

“Yours is such a little man, _however_ did you expect him to win against my beautiful champion?” King Everett boasts, and the fake little polite smile Ian knows he has to give him in response sits like acid in his heart. A more honest part of him wants to reach over and knock the bastard right in the teeth. However, in the next moment the crowd erupts into a mighty cheer, and King Everett swears beneath his breath.

Ian looks down to see Mickey, _his Mickey,_ pinning down the taller fighter from the North, and while letting out his breath in relief he immediately stands up to clap his proud approval with the rest of his people. Perhaps more enthusiastically than would be expected for a king, but he’s truly both proud _and_ relieved.

Clearly annoyed by the turn of events, King Everett begins to mutter about how actually he unfortunately _won’t_ be able to dine tonight at the castle, due to some unexpected business he needs to hurry back to in Βόρεια πλευρά, but Ian couldn’t be more delighted by this news, real or not. Good riddance, he thinks to himself.

Mickey looks up at him again as the arena guardian comes over to raise his pale fist in triumph over the Northern champion, and Ian swears his heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Even bleeding and bruised, he truly is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. A small nod of Mickey’s towards him says, _for you, my King_ , and Ian experiences a flood of feeling throughout his entire body that make him turn to excuse himself to King Everett once Mickey turns to exit the arena.

He has to find him. Has to-

His advisor steps in front of him as he exits the stands in a haste, “Ian, my lord, where are you-“

“Ezio, him. That was _him_! Did you not see?”

“Not before you my King, but we cannot invite him back now, he is certainly not-“

“Enough!” Ian growls, before his advisor has a chance to say the words. “Go speak with him. I want him back at the castle tonight, fed properly, bathed, and massaged. See to whatever he needs. And then tell him I wish to see him again”.

Ezio sighs in defeat before finally nodding his acceptance of his orders and Ian swallows his disappointment at his trusted advisor’s obvious disapproval. So what if Mickey fought in the arenas? Did that make him any less of a man? Any less worthy of his attention?

He ponders this sad thought throughout dinner that night, once more thankful that King Everett is not in attendance so he can be left alone with his thoughts, besides the odd comment from a sibling about how said meeting went today. He keeps his answers short and to the point, feigning having a headache so he doesn’t have to say much.

It’s not until he is sitting in his chambers, with his head in his hands until there is a knock at the door before it opens at his call, that he realizes the answer to his questions.

“Mickey” he breathes out.

Mickey bows stiffly towards the young king once the guard leaves them alone, with his lip cut, his cheeks and arms bruised, and who knows what else. He must be in great pain, but he’s clearly trying his damndest to look like he feels nothing at all. “Sire” he says, his jaw clenching defiantly after the word leaves his lips.

“Don’t” Ian says as he stands to approach him, “Don’t be ashamed. It doesn’t make a difference to me”. His heart hurts just looking at how defensive Mickey obviously feels he needs to be. “Bullshit it doesn’t” Mickey spits, immediately bowing his head in horror when he catches his mistake.

Ian couldn’t care less about the curse though, to be truthful it only draws him to Mickey more. He reaches out to touch Mickey’s cheek again, this time sad when Mickey winces at the touch.

“It doesn’t” he repeats quietly, feeling ashamed for even thinking for a moment that it did. Mickey is no less of a man than he is. Maybe more of one, considering everything he must have gone through in his life.

But he can tell how tired Mickey is, so he decides to drop the subject for now. “Did my servants take care of you?” he asks politely, glancing him over and noticing the light pleasant scent of oil coming off his skin, which although damaged is clear.

Mickey shrugs, “Did what they could. I’m fine. Never had a massage before” he muses.

“No?” Ian asks, moving his arms to slowly massage his fighter’ soldiers, “You fought…so bravely today. I wish I could have appreciated it more. But I was so worried, I thought…”

Mickey looks up at him, a question in his blue eyes that Ian isn’t ready to answer. Not yet. He’s still overcome that not only did he find Mickey again, he had him back here in the castle with him. So instead, he simply looks at Mickey’s lips. So full, so beautiful.

“Would you kiss me?” he asks, looking back up at Mickey’s eyes with a burning gaze as he releases his hold on the other man’s shoulders. But Mickey just stares back at him for a moment or so, still being stubborn.

 “Are you asking me as King, or as a man?” he finally asks boldly.

“As another man” Ian confirms, but before he can lean in to kiss Mickey, the other man closes the space in between them, reaching out for his face and holding his jaw while they kiss hard, bodies pressed together and breath quickening.

Ian is surprised at how soft Mickey’s lips are save for the cut from the battle today, the taste of them slightly coppery from the blood that had stained them just hours before. But God does he feel like heaven in Ian’s arms, and the longer they kiss the more he begins to feel his heart race and his body burn with desire.

“Tell me what you want” he pants into Mickey’s lips, determined to make him feel good.

“I want to feel you so bad, my king” Mickey groans back onto his lips, while their thin robes do little to hide their arousal for each other, “Want your hard cock”.

He could just push Mickey onto the bed and take him hard, and he knows the other man would enjoy it. But something pushes into Ian’s mind, something that would show him more than just how much he wants him.

“My servants took care of you. Now I want to” he whispers, lowering slowly to his knees while Mickey looks at him in shock. He looks even more stunned when Ian confidently unfolds his robe to get to the swollen cock inside of them.

“You- you shouldn’t-“ Mickey stammers, his already flushed cheeks turning even more red.

“Why? Why should I not?” Ian asks, pausing with his lips just centimetres away from the heavy tip. There’s already a bead forming at the slit.

His breath ghosts hot over Mickey’s skin, and Mickey bites his lip before he finally shakes his head, like he can’t believe any of this is real.

“You’re the king”.

“And I’m a man”.

And so was Mickey. No more and no less than he was. Of that he was now sure. Ian moves forward to take the heavy member into his mouth, savoring the weight and feel of it as his tongue slides up its smooth length. “Jesus” Mickey eventually curses, while Ian’s hands slide to grip his thick thighs for balance, “I thought you didn’t want to…”

“I…” Ian pauses, taking his mouth away while he thinks furiously for a moment, “I’ll think of something so I can see you again, I promise. We’ll have to be discreet, of course”.

Overstimulated, Mickey can only groan in response, his muscles eventually starting to quiver, while Ian gently nods with his dick still in his mouth, swallowing the wetness that finally spills into it before Mickey starts to go limp. Looking up, Ian sees the other man is absolutely exhausted, his eyes appearing almost glazed over now from his release.

“You should go home” Ian says regretfully, wishing he could have the entire evening with him. “I’ll have my men make sure you arrive safely, wherever you need to go, until I can see you again”.

“Nah, I don’t need that. I’ll be fine” Mickey answers, still staring at him like he’s growing two heads when Ian gets to his feet and wipes off the corner of his mouth.

“Well…when can I see you again?” Ian asks, doing little to disguise his hopefulness. He was truthfully a little surprised by how much he enjoyed just pleasuring the other man, as he was usually somewhat of a selfish lover.

“You’re the king, right? Don’t you get whatever you ask for?” Mickey says, and it takes Ian a moment to realize he’s teasing him, because his face still looks serious. But no, there’s a hint of a smile there too.

God this man is wonderful.

“That depends. How about…how about I come see you the day after tomorrow?”

Mickey shakes his head, “I’d prefer you didn’t. How we gonna explain that anyways, you comin to see me?”

Ian nods, forgetting how that would look for a moment. One visit to the fighter’s quarters by the arena might be acceptable if his citizens thought he was going there to congratulate them, but any more than that…

“Come back here then. I’ll have Ezio wait for you at the gate by sunset”.

“As you wish. Well…goodnight, my king” Mickey smiles, his cut lip starting to look a little worse after the rough kissing, but his overall demeanour so much brighter.

Ian smiles back, “Goodnight, Mikhailo”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad everyone is enjoying this fic so far xo I missed this amazing fandom. On a side note, I'm away for the long weekend but I'll make time to write the next chapter during this coming week :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you plan a date in ancient times? Idk, but Ian tries to figure it out.

Mickey pours himself a cup of water from the ewer resting on the otherwise bare table in his room, one of only three pieces of furniture he owns. Life of an arena fighter. Lukewarm and gritty, the uncleansed water at least quenches his thirst though, and he wipes his mouth across his arm when he is finished.

Truthfully, he had barely been able to keep himself outwardly calm as he walked back to the arena’s quarters alone, hardly aware of the muscular aches forming in his body from the fight after he felt like a God with the _King_ of Νότια πλευρά on his knees before him, wanting to pleasure him. But he feels them now.

Closing his blue eyes for a moment, Mickey sits down slowly on his hard and dirt ridden mattress, imagining the moment again, taking himself away from where he currently is. But it had hardly seemed real, even at the time.

Aware of this, he had longed to reach out for the King’s copper colored hair during their time together, to weave his fingers through it while those soft lips touched him, but truth be told he was a little scared. Scared to do anything that might end the moment, might reveal it to be only a dream.

Even after the King had dropped to his knees for him willingly, it seemed impossible. How could a royal born be willing to even speak respectfully to someone like him, let alone consort with him? If the king had simply wanted to fuck him, that would have made much more sense. But he gave Mickey pleasure without asking for any in return, and in fact only requested to have his company again.

A strange sense actually comes over Mickey when he thinks about the day after tomorrow, the day when he would see Ian again. _King Ian,_ he reminds himself. He’s nervous yes, but… he’s also looking forward to it. And not just for the physical pleasure he might receive. King Ian hadn’t spoken to him like he was just some poor arena fighter, he had spoken to him… like he was an equal.

He’s never felt this way before. Wanted.

He soon falls asleep while still wearing his day attire, too tired to even get under a bedsheet, but with a definite smile plastered onto his pale, worn out face.

-

The day seemed torturously long.

Ian had spent most of it sitting on his royal throne before his poorer subjects as they came into the Great Hall one by one to share with him their various woes and beg for help. This one had been robbed blind, that one could not afford the taxes his landlord demanded. The list seemed endless.

As often as possible, Ian would do whatever he could to make their sorrows easier, but deep down he wished he could do more. He makes mental notes of issues that seem to be coming up consistently, reminding himself to speak to Ezio about some of them later.

The only thing that lifts the heaviness of the responsibility of the crown from his mind is the thought of seeing Mickey tonight, and having a second chance to speak with him, kiss him, touch him…

He debates whenever he has a free moment of thought between subjects about where he can take Mickey this evening for some privacy. Simply to his room? No…that could be done anytime, and part of him admittedly wants to do something more impressive. A tour of the castle perhaps? There are many breathtaking rooms, and pieces of art. A little risky until much later in the evening he thinks…

Then it finally hits him. With Mickey arriving at sunset, they could sneak up to the spiral staircase that leads to a flat roof portion of the exterior of the castle while everyone else is still finishing up dinner. A private surface, Ian used to go up there when he was younger because it had such a wonderful view of the grounds.

At night he imagines the stars will be beautiful, and because this specific part of the roof is set lower, it is completely hidden from the guard’s tower.

Perfect. Almost.

Before beginning supper in the Feasting Hall Ian sends Ezio to fetch Hera, Belen’s mother whom he had rescued from the streets. Normally, Ian would simply send Ezio to tend to whatever tasks he wanted or needed done, but something in his gut tells him Ezio, although he would do whatever asked of him, would secretly disapprove of his King’s request. Something Ian would rather not think about it.

Hera on the other hand, was extremely grateful towards him, and he trusted both her willingness to do whatever she thought would make him happy, and her ability to be discreet. She arrives promptly after being summoned at the study Ian is relaxing and reading in before dinner, and beams at him, with Belen slung at her hip. He smiles at the sight of them, both looking cleaner and better in mere days.

“Thank you for coming” he says, as she bows lightly towards him.

Hera lifts her head at his words, “Of course, your grace. How may I be of service to you?”

Ian closes the book he had been, well, _trying_ to read. “First, I wanted to see how you are doing. Do you have everything you need? Are your quarters adequate?” he asks, wishing he had remembered to ask that sooner.

She almost laughs, “More than so. My son and I will be forever indebted to you”.

Ian nods, twiddling his thumbs for a moment before he asks more quietly, “Can I ask for your discretion about something Hera?”

Her thin face becomes more serious, and she nods her head deeply, indicating that she can be trusted.

The young king takes a deep breath, “I have a guest coming to the castle tonight. As the sun goes down, I will leave the dining hall to go meet with him privately. He is not…a guest of the castle, but of mine, if you understand what I mean?”

She takes a moment to put his words together and then nods again politely when she understands, “I do my lord”.

Ian lets out a small sigh of relief, “While everyone is dining in the great hall, before he arrives, I want you to go up the spiral staircase in the northern end of the castle, past the hallways designated for grain storage. It leads up into a private section of the castle’s roof, where I wish to take my guest tonight. I want…I want you to make it nice up there. Sweep a little, lay down some soft woolen blankets, uh…”

She smiles shyly, offering a suggestion when he trails off, lost in his vision about what to prepare for Mickey, “Perhaps some candles my lord? And wine?”

“Yes! Yes, candles and wine. And maybe a basket of food. Does…does that sound, adequate to you? Something…someone would enjoy?”

Ian’s cheeks are flushing red with embarrassment at this point. Here he was asking for a maid’s advice, too much of a coward to tell his siblings what he was up to for the evening because he knew they would eat him alive.

But the look on the woman’s face reassures him, and she nods her head again, her eyes soft. “It sounds absolutely wonderful my king”.

That night at dinner, Ian eyes the heavy double doors serving as an entrance to the hall like a hawk, waiting for the subtle signal he is expecting.

Once she finishes her preparations, Hera is supposed to watch for Mickey’s approach towards the castle gates, and then stand in the entrance of the feasting hall with a nod to subtly let Ian know it is time for him to leave without attracting any unwanted attention.  

Ezio knew where he was to leave Mickey to wait for the king but knows nothing of the romantic atmosphere that had been procured on the rooftop. When he finally he sees Hera’s signal, Ian feels exhilarated leaving the stuffy royal meal to go feast on the arena fighter in privacy instead.

He abandons his guards long before he reaches the empty Northern corridor that leads to the roof, well, empty save for once specific man.

His heart thumping harder, Ian quietly strides up behind Mickey, who is facing away from him, peering up the spiral staircase, and puts his hands on the other man’s hips.

Startled at first, Mickey tenses, but then laughs softly when he hears Ian practically purr into his ear, “Waiting for someone?” “Oh, you know, just the King” Mickey smirks, turning to accept a kiss Ian quickly plants on his lips, “By the way, at first I thought maybe your man servant was leading me down this empty corridor to kill me or something”.

Ian stiffens slightly at the intended joke, taking his lips away from Mickey and searching his eyes in the candlelight, “He would never. Ezio is loyal to the Gallagher name, regardless of his own feelings about your status”.

Mickey’s lips twitch, almost teasingly now after Ian’s reassurance. “Well what about you? You gonna try and silence me tonight?”

“I plan on doing the exact opposite, actually. Those little groans of yours, I want to hear so many more” Ian answers distractedly, his eyes drifting down Mickey’s body before they come back up, “But I want to show you something first. I chose this spot for a reason, come with me”.

Signalling for Mickey to go up the staircase ahead of him, the two men climb for the few minutes it takes to reach the open roof, and Ian grins at the sight of Mickey’s eyebrows jumping up his forehead in surprise when they reach the top.

“The fuck is this?” he asks, clearly bewildered.

Tall, flickering candles light the space through the darkness that is now falling over the land, placed delicately around what Ian is pleased to find, was his exact vision. There’s a thick, comfortable looking blanket spread out for them to lie on, a covered woven basket presumably filled with food, and two goblets placed beside a covered pitcher of wine.

“It’s for you” Ian says, following him up onto the surface. “But…why?” Mickey says, still staring at the spread like he’s missing something, and stepping slowly around the arrangement.

“I can’t make an effort for you? I can’t do something to make my time with you more special?”

Mickey swallows hard and shrugs, avoiding Ian’s eyes with a look he’s seen before. Shame.

Ian tuts in his throat softly, taking Mickey’s hand to bring him down to the more comfortable blanket. “You are worth all of this and so much more, I promise you” he says, searching the other man’s eyes before he leans in to give him another soft kiss. He can see how Mickey’s eyes close slowly, savoring the moment as their tongues slowly meet before the kiss deepens.

“I’ve never wanted any man like I want you” he admits, pressing his forehead against Mickey’s before they kiss again, “And I understand you find that hard to believe, but you shouldn’t”.

“Well, this is kind of new for me too. Not the king thing but…” Mickey laughs when Ian playfully shoves at him, the two of them grinning at each other in the dim light. “No. To be honest, I’ve never been so caught up with someone before either. I…thought about you. A lot”.

This news makes Ian inexplicably happy. “I thought about you too. Dreamed of you. Your smile, your eyes…your incredible body” he murmurs, running his strong hand up Mickey’s thigh. It feels so firm and muscular beneath him, and already hardening in response, he resists the urge to grind himself against it. There is time for all that, if Mickey wants.

First he wants to treat him to a night he’ll never forget.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too fluffy or just right? Next chapter will pick up right where this one left off :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Shameless, long live fanfiction & artwork inspired by Ian & Mickey <3

Ian stands a tall and proud King beside Mickey as the other man now leans quietly against the strong stone battlement, his elbows rested on a rocky crenel as he gazes upwards into the starry sky.

Ian had happily pointed out different areas of the castle grounds to his cherished guest while there had still been some end-of-day light present in the distance. Mickey listened intently and asked questions openly before admitting he’d never even been this high off of the ground before. He was especially interested in the training grounds for soldiers off in the distance, where the King’s army was strengthened and formed.

Quite frankly, the view from a castle as large as this one is just simply magnificent and seeing Mickey’s obvious wonder and appreciation at the incredible but familiar views all around them reminds Ian that sometimes it is rather easy to forget how lucky he was to be born into the family he is part of.

Being around Mickey… sort of makes him feel like he’s seeing things again for the very first time.

And now, with the sun completely fallen, the sky is pitch black and the stars are shining bright and clear above them. Mickey has been looking straight up at them for so long that he starts to gingerly massage his neck when he finally looks back towards Ian with a smile, clearing his throat before gesturing up at the sky.

“It looks like you could just reach out and touch the stars from up here. Never seen anything fuckin like it…don’t even have a window in my room” he says.

Not even a single window… and this man deserves so much more, Ian thinks. Now he wants to treat him to something more than a view.

“Come here” he says softly, stepping back onto the comfortable setup for the two of them. Smiling as he finally turns away from the battlement, Mickey joins Ian on the softer surface of the blanket, biting his bottom lip when Ian reveals the expensive food placed carefully inside the basket.

“Are you hungry?” Ian asks hopefully, opening a small pot of churned butter to spread over a slice of freshly baked stone-grain bread.

“Starved” Mickey admits, shyly poking his finger at another item in the basket, “Is that smoked sausage? Smells so good”.

Ian hands over the dish of smoked sausage happily, offering Mickey more pieces of delectable food after the other man swallows each bite. Having already eaten himself, the king nibbles here and there, but he finds so much more pleasure in offering Mickey the fine foods and seeing him close his gorgeous blue eyes when each new taste hits his tongue.

Ian talks to him the entire time, sharing his favorites.

“One of my cooks prepares these incredible spiced peppers, here you have to try… basil-sundried tomatoes, so tasty… these biscuits have fresh herbs baked right in…”

Finally, Mickey stops him because he’s too full to try anything else, shaking his head for no more when he accidently lets out a loud belch. Immediately his blue eyes widen and he looks right over at Ian quite obviously worried, so Ian quickly belches back at him, laughing when he sees Mickey blink in shock.

His dark eyebrows come together, “I didn’t think-“

“Kings do everything normal people do. And queens do as well. Those rumors about them not crapping, its bullshit you know” Ian says seriously, before breaking into an even bigger grin when Mickey starts to tilt his head back laughing.

Mickey shakes his dark head, “I can’t believe you are so…so…”

Ian raises his eyebrows a little, “So, what?”

Mickey stops laughs, hesitating before he answers. “You’re… not a jerk. You’re funny, and you’re kind. I didn’t think kings were like that” he admits, taking a gulp of the deep red wine Ian had poured for them earlier after he shares his admission.

“I’ve known a handful…. and I suppose most aren’t” Ian admits, thinking of his father and King Everett in particular, “But I’m a little different I think”.

“More than a little. You haven’t spit at me, or had me whipped for making a mistake in front of you, not even once” Mickey says with a laugh.

Ian’s no longer smiling however, and his eyes narrow slightly in distaste, “A king did those things to you?” he asks, anger flaring in his gut.

Mickey shrugs off his concern, obviously unfazed by the reality of his situation after twenty years of being treated like a flea-ridden dog. “Regular people do that to me. You know what I am…” he answers. But although he accepts it, its clear he’s still embarrassed by his circumstances, and even more so by the fact he’s admitting to them in a king’s presence.

It’s unacceptable to Ian.

“I…I’m going to change things Mick. I promise. I’m going to find out what I can do about your situation. I don’t want anybody to ever treat you like you are worthless ever again. And I’ll punish whoever does” Ian growls, getting more agitated until he feels a hand reach over and gently touch his arm.

“Ian…I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time. I didn’t think that joke about spitting and crap would upset you, and m’sorry” Mickey says, clearly trying earnestly to change his mood back to a better one, “Didn’t want to upset you”.

“Wasn’t a joke” Ian mumbles back, but he’s losing the fight to hold onto his anger when Mickey shifts and leans over to be closer to him, pausing in front of the king’s flushed face. Less than an inch of space left between them, Ian gazes into Mickey’s sincere but fiery eyes, before his own eyes drop down towards Mickey’s succulent, calling mouth.

-

Mickey can hardly believe how blatantly bold he is being with Ian right now as he moves to straddle him delicately.

With the _king_ , he forcefully reminds himself again. But more and more, especially after the hours they had spent up here alone tonight, he’s thinking of the other man as just Ian, truthfully.

He doesn’t feel like he’s Mickey the arena fighter when he’s with Ian. He feels…like maybe is he worth something to somebody.

Their toned bodies quickly shift to realign with each other, Mickey’s strong legs parting as he rests over Ian’s, whose arms immediately snake around his lower back to hold him gently in place.

Ian, who did all this for him tonight. Ian, who thought he was worth protecting. Ian, who’s perfect face is right in front of his now, his hazy oceanic eyes not hiding how badly he is longing for a kiss.

With a short breath, Mickey parts his lips just slightly in response, and with that Ian surges forward to close the gap between them, his mouth hitting Mickey’s hard for a long and passionate kiss before he pulls away to kiss down his neck.

A small gasp escapes from Mickey’s now lonely lips when Ian’s teeth eventually touch on his neck, gently sinking down as his pale skin explodes with tiny goosebumps from the sensation, and then Ian’s strong hand brushes his robe away to get to his cock, standing stiff beneath them.

Groaning because he can barely say a word he feels so charged, Ian luckily seems to know exactly what that means, and immediately brings his mouth back to Mickey’s, hot and with a pressing tongue that makes him open up even more.

The slick feeling in his mouth is making him even hornier, but he knows he probably shouldn’t do anything more without permission.

“Can I…?” he breathes out, his hand pausing over the bulge pressing through Ian’s robes. “Uh” Ian grunts, quickly pulling out his cock and beginning to eagerly fist it before he leans his forehead against Mickey’s, perspiration gathering between them.

Baring himself to Ian in return, Mickey pushes his hips forward to get himself closer to the king so he can line himself up with him. Both men groan when the heat passes between their erections and their skin rubs together, and Mickey stretches his hand to masturbate them together.

“Oh fuck…” Ian breathes out, looking down at them pressed together, glassy-eyed, “Feels so good Mickey…my Mickey”.

“Yeah” Mickey pants, “Yours. All yours”. A million thoughts race through his mind, all of them tinged with disbelief at how lucky he is to be here right now.

Ian uses a hand to stroke them too, their joint hands forming a fist large enough to completely engulf the both of them in a tight massage as they build towards an orgasm. Ian loses control first, jerking his hips when he starts to spurt out over their hands, the warm slippery lubricant bringing Mickey to an edge soon after.

It takes a few moments of panting before they find the emotional energy to move off from each other, wiping their hands off on the blanket before they move over down to a cleaner section of it, both smiling, both blinking in surprise about how quickly an intense heat built up between them.

But the fact of the matter was, the heat was always there. Just waiting for an opportunity to be acted upon.

“I can’t get enough of you” Ian whispers, reaching over to draw small circles on Mickey’s shoulder with his finger.


	7. Chapter 7

“Do you like art?” Ian asks, curiously glancing over at Mickey to try and gauge the other man’s reactions to the priceless paintings hung up throughout the seemingly endless hallway. Late in the evening, Ian has already ordered most of the castle to retire, and only a few trusted hands remain working here and there out of sight to provide the king with privacy as he gives his guest a tour.

After Mickey’s last visit to the castle, the king had only wanted to expose him to more beautiful and exquisite things, everything he felt the fighter deserved. Lucky for him, the castle was full of them, spoils gathered from generations of royalty.

Mickey shrugs in consideration as he continues to glance around at the hanging and displayed artwork, “I dunno. Never really saw any before” he admits, “This one’s pretty bloody…I like it though”.

Ian follows Mickey’s finger towards a painting of a torn summer’s battlefield, and he describes its significance proudly while the other man touches the frame gently in interest.

“That’s a depiction of Νότια πλευρά and Βόρεια πλευρά at war, during my grandfather’s time on the throne. You know, although we have a peace treaty with them, its never been quite steady”.

“Kicked their asses back then though, didn’t ya?” Mickey quips, tilting his head and giving the king a flirtatious look with those blue eyes that makes his heart race. “Yeah” Ian answers breathlessly, “I mean, well, I wasn’t born yet but…yeah”.

He flushes pink as soon as he shuts up, confounded as to how just a single look from the other man could make his knees feel so weak, and his mind go to mush.

Regaining his composure, he follows Mickey towards some statues displayed further down the hallway, expertly carved in either marble or stone, and after admiring one excellent piece of a soldier mounted on a rearing horse, Mickey stops in front of another statue of a man in thought and copies the pose perfectly until Ian laughs.

“You know… I wouldn’t mind having some artwork inspired by you” the king says thoughtfully once he stops cracking up, loving how Mickey immediately blushes.

“Nah you don’t” the fighter quickly retorts, jabbing his thumb towards a nude male statue, “You already got this one”.

“I’d much rather have a statue of your naked body. In my chambers of course. Don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine underneath those robes” Ian answers, closing in on him for a heavy kiss. “Maybe a painting or two as well” he mumbles into Mickey’s warm lips, and truthfully, he’s only half joking.

“Yeah, yeah” Mickey replies as he breaks the kiss, pinching his freckled arm affectionately, “Can’t say your artist would appreciate having to look at my bare ass all day”.

“My artists would not only be inspired, they would be absolutely blessed to spend the day looking at _your_ -“ Ian reaches around to squeeze a handful of Mickey’s firm and plush ass, his dick twitching in in interest from the sensation of it against his palm. Amidst some gentle laughter between the two of them, he then hears Mickey’s stomach grumbling, and he tuts in his throat, letting it go for now.

“Come on, to the kitchens”.

There are only a few cooks and scullery maids left in the royal kitchen overnight to clean and prepare for the next day’s feasts, but its fair to say all are completely shocked at seeing Ian arrive to request some food to take back to his room, one maid even dropping her pot with a crash at the sight of him.

“Y-yes your majesty, w-whatever you like” the head cook stammers after giving the clumsy maid a poisonous glare, quickly gathering a ceramic dish to fill with the fruits and biscuits Ian names from the top of his head. They offer to deliver it to his room as well, but Mickey is already waiting quietly in the hallway for him, and Ian politely declines.

By the time they arrive at his cozy private bedroom, a fire Hera had set up earlier crackling softly in the fireplace and the bathing pool gently lapping at its marbled edges, Mickey is ravenous for food and Ian is ravenous for Mickey. After watching Mickey wolf down some biscuits and summer fruit to satisfy himself, Ian flirtatiously coaxes him to undress, the two men slowly taking their robes off in front of each other, one set made of the finest materials, one of cheap cloth and leather.

The king always feels a rush deep inside himself, perhaps in his very soul, when he sees Mickey bared and stunning, and Mickey looks at him with an expression that suggests he feels the exact same way. It took unimaginable patience for the two of them to control themselves around each other in general, and now in the privacy of his chambers, they let most of it go.

“Bathe with me” Ian murmurs, lowering himself into the comforting pool and motioning for Mickey to do the same. The dark-haired man lets out a sigh of contentment as the scented warm water hits his skin, before turning immediately to face Ian and rub his pale shoulders affectionately. God it feels good, the king’s muscles preening at the sensation. Not as good as Mickey himself though.

Reaching out to touch Mickey’s plump, perfect lips, now wet and glistening, Ian bites his lip. “I want to feed you” he admits, rubbing his thumb over the other man’s bottom lip in particular.

“I could eat” Mickey answers, watching with interest as Ian leans across the pool to reach the forgotten dish of treats from the kitchen. He selects a juicy slice of ripe fig to drop into Mickey’s waiting mouth, and then another, and another, until a bead of sweet, dark juice finally rolls down Mickey’s chin to his neck.

The king licks a long, slow stripe up the fighter’s neck to taste him, feeling him swallow hard when he reaches his sweet spot. A little suckling at his throat, and Mickey’s practically panting, soon pushing him away.

“Wanna try something else” the fighter mutters, reaching through the oiled water to stroke Ian. His hand is strong and sure, and Ian can’t argue with his inclination. Putting his arms behind himself, he lifts himself out to sit on the edge of the pool instead, spreading his legs so Mickey can swim between them. That’s not enough though, the dark-haired man presses his hands against Ian’s pale thighs to part them even more, going in like he has a hunger that only the king can suffice.

“Oh…God” the king soon gasps, fumbling a hand downwards to grip Mickey’s dark wet hair. His head is buzzing with pleasure, sparking like a fire-light, while Mickey takes him deep into his mouth and throat, beautiful head shifting and strong wet tongue sliding against his cock in an indescribable tandem.

“How do I taste?” the king finally manages to get out, looking down through hazy ocean-like eyes until Mickey meets his gaze.

“Fuckin amazing” Mickey answers hotly, before going right back to his worship of Ian’s cock.

An orgasm hits the king like a wave, coming in rolls of unbelievable pleasure until he loudly groans, feeling Mickey swallow around him.

And then it hits him. “I want to try something” he pants, getting up to cross the room. Mickey watches curiously as Ian goes to pick up his crown, placing on top of his head and turning to look at him, “Please…come here”.

“Alright” Mickey says agreeably, still hard as he comes up from the marble bathing pool, dripping and flushed. He stops in front of Ian, maybe expecting to do something for him, but instead, Ian kisses him quickly on the lips and then drops to his knees.

“I have a fantasy. Well, a dream more like. I’ve had it so many times since I first met you” he admits, stroking Mickey’s thigh slowly with his hand.

“Yeah?” Mickey asks, looking down at him, “Tell me”.

“I want to pleasure you, just like this. And I want…I want you to take my crown while I’m doing it, and throw it”.

“Wait, what?” Mickey starts, stepping back half a step.

“I know I know. It sounds strange. But the thought of it makes me so hard. Only from you though” Ian practically pleads, inching closer. He’s already hard again just from sharing it aloud.

“Can’t believe the king is begging to suck my cock” Mickey almost scoffs in disbelief, “And I’ll do whatever you want, hope you know that. But you can’t try me for treason after I chuck it, alright?”

Ian laughs softly, flushed with pleasure that Mickey is agreeing to indulge him in this. “I promise, now come here…”

-

Mickey can’t believe what the king is asking him to do. While most of the time he thinks of Ian as Ian, he can’t help but again be sharply aware of the differences in their lives whenever the crown is involved. Gold, encrusted with priceless and rare gems, its worth more than his life a thousand times over.

But as the King, Ian deserves his wish to be granted. And its not like he’s not gonna get off on this either, he’s already painfully stiff, and when Ian wraps his lips around him his hips jerk forward automatically, needing him. He takes himself at the base and slaps his cock down gently on Ian’s warm tongue, letting Ian get more and more into his work before he takes a deep breath and reaches down to gently touch Ian’s crown.

Ian’s beautiful eyes close when he makes contact, sucking him down harder, and Mickey grits his teeth, half expecting a guard to burst in and chop of his head for what he’s about to do. Grabbing the crown more firmly, he obediently lifts it from Ian’s head and throws it, simultaneously hearing Ian moan and watching it sail across the room to land (thankfully) on the edge of the luxurious bedspread.

A sense of relief floods through Mickey that quickly shifts as he closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip, finishing in the king’s mouth and hearing a breathless “Mickey” soon after.

“That’s…that’s exactly what I wanted” the handsome king whispers as he gets to his feet, and looking at his cupped hand, Mickey notices he had finished a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kink is relevant later on x


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! Busy week. Anyways, here's the next chapter.
> 
> P.S. *A very basic description of servitude: Servitude is a "relationship" between two people in which one person, the servant, has to work for the benefit of another person, the master, without the right to quit and seek other employment freely. Typically, the master may sell or give the servant away under some conditions and may be thought of as having a property right in that person.

_~ Ezio’s Perspective~_

Arriving in plain clothes, Ezio is certain his quiet presence in the arena makes no difference to the rest of the slightly drunken crowd. To be fair, there is really nothing much to distinguish him from the rest of the commoners and townspeople flooding the stands, other than perhaps the rather distasteful expression he can’t help but wear.

And he would be lying if he said that was simply because of the fact that he found the blood sport taking place in the arenas disgusting. Ezio is a straightforward and practical man, who looks at life in terms of facts and figures. And nothing in his repertoire could have possibly prepared him for his king becoming besotted with an arena fighter.

Yet it was entirely undeniable, there was a light in the king’s eyes for the past few weeks that he had never seen before. Not even when the young king had been crowned the king of Νότια πλευρά in front of thousands and thousands of subjects and the entire royal court, had he shone like this. King Ian was enamoured of the scrappy fighter just below him in the arena, taken by every aspect of his being, and it had nothing to do with money or status.

Ezio did not understand how the king could even fathom a relationship with this poor man. For the past few weeks he had been delivering short correspondences from King Ian to Mickey, and reading them quietly to the other man, who had a limited education, before penning what Mickey had to say in response, obviously loathing the fact that there was a middleman involved.

But it was not his job to understand. It was Ezio’s job to spectate Mickey’s fight today and report back to his king when it was over, and that he would most certainly do.

The young, dark-haired man below the stands he is there to survey is currently slamming his scraped knee down onto the hollowed chest of the man laying beneath him in the dusty dirt, panting with strained exertion while the other man scrambles to throw him off, but only tears at his clothing in the effort.

That’s not to say the entire fight had been so easy. It rarely ever is.

Mickey, who he’s been informed multiple times by the eager king is the man’s name, is bleeding steadily from a gash on his forehead, and his arms as well as his knee are scraped to high hell, but he’s clearly winning, and on behalf of his king, Ezio is relieved the fight will be over long before weapons are introduced.

Pleased when Mickey’s fist is finally raised in triumph, for he can now return to the castle, Ezio hastily leaves the stands to avoid jostling through a mostly unbathed crowd.

When he arrives back to the castle, he is immediately summoned to Ian’s study, where he bows respectfully upon entering.

“Ezio” Ian says, sounding breathless as he quickly stands up from his desk, forgetting instantly about the papers he had been sorting through, “How did the fight go?”

“Your champion won, my lord. The other fighter was brought down long before weapons were introduced” Ezio reports, watching how Ian’s face flashes with relief before he adds, “And he was not injured?”

“Mildly, your grace” Ezio responds honestly.

King Ian gives him a strange look, “Mildly? You tended to him of course”.

“I…You did not say to do so, your grace” Ezio fumbles, for once in his life caught off guard. _Of course_ he should have checked on the fighter! He sees clear anger flare in King Ian’s face at his incompetence, but unlike his father, Ian’s anger quickly vanishes as he apparently reasons with himself. A very different king indeed.

“Well…mildly you say. I’m sure he will be alright. I still want to see him tomorrow of course, bring him as soon as you are able to after I finish the deed signing for the Moran land. As for right now, I’m told the legal advisor I had requested in earlier weeks has _finally_ arrived, please return with him and a scribe”.

Ezio nods and bows before he leaves the study, left alone to wonder what the King is planning to do next.

-

Sweating profusely from his successful fight, Mickey coughs some dust out from his lungs as he leaves the arena, eagerly heading inside for the quieter inner chambers of the fighter’s quarters to wash some of the sweat and blood off his skin.

He’s just about to round the pathway to the common bathing room when he hears a not so subtle cough, and he sniffs awkwardly as he turns to see one of his fellow arena fighters standing there, Baron.

“The fuck you want?” he asks gruffly, but he feels he already knows.

 “Been a while. Let’s go, huh?” Baron says with his tanned arms crossed cockily, tilting his head towards his own room. He’s tall, with his long blond hair worn loose instead of being tied back, and he’s dressed to go clean the arena after Mickey’s bloody fight.

But Mickey shakes his head emphatically. Unfortunately, Baron was one of two fighters out of fifteen housed here that Mickey had unwisely consorted with before, usually after his fights, when he was full of adrenaline and eager for a secondary release.

It was all business, or perhaps all pleasure to be more accurate, but there was nothing more to the relationship than that. Now Mickey had Ian, and not only did he know he would not be permitted to touch or sleep with another man, he didn’t want to.

“No thanks Baron, m’good” he says with a grunt, heading on steadily towards the bathing chamber. Baron shrugs as he walks past, still eyeing his body with obvious interest even after his rejection, “Alright Mikhailo, next time then” he calls back confidently.  

Mickey mumbles something non-committedly as he leaves the corridor and the conversation. There’s no need to get into why it won’t be happening again. And it won’t. It just wouldn’t make sense to any of the other fighters if he said he met someone, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t say who. None of them would understand how he felt about the king.

-

Mickey dresses in a sturdier leather jerkin the next day before he slips casually out of the arena compound to find Ezio, finished the chores that are assigned to him on days when he doesn’t have a fight planned. As expected, King Ian’s right-hand man is mounted atop a tall black horse alongside the stone cobbled street, both obviously handsome and healthy, but with no royal insignia marking the animal or the man as anything more than a wealthy merchant and his steed.

“Fighter” he says, with a tip of his head as Mickey approaches. He tosses down reigns to Mickey for a second, brown horse that’s waiting calmly to be mounted. Mickey had not ridden in a while before his visits to Ian began, but he climbs onto the animals back without much difficulty now, and the two men nudge their horses and take off in silence.

-

For the safety of his King and his holding of the throne, Ezio can’t help but hope that the affair with the arena fighter riding towards the castle next to him is nothing more than a phase. Though the man had not done anything personally to offend him, there is no future for the two of them together, not that he can see. It’s his job to protect the king.

And part him also worries for the young king’s heart, oddly enough. Ezio had seen Ian in some of his darker days health-wise, and he knows quite plainly that the King is falling fast and hard for the fighter. How could this man possibly understand the gravity of what that meant? He glances over at Mickey, wondering if he should tell him at all of the meeting that had taken place the day before. A meeting he knew with no reservations came to be on behalf of this rag-tag arena warrior.

Sir Maursus, a legal expert, had been summoned to see the king as soon as possible, and after a few weeks of travel before his arrival, King Ian greeted him like an honored guest. Well supplied with wine and cakes, the King had the legal consultant in a fantastic mood before he finally turned more serious, explaining why he had invited the other man to the castle.

“Maursus my good friend, you as well as I know that the rules of our society are changing. I am a young king compared to my late father, rest his soul”, Ian says tactfully, “and I plan to be the one making these changes, changes that he never dreamed of”.

Maursus nods, his cheeks slightly flushed from the splendid wine he has been indulging himself on, “I agree wholeheartedly your Grace. And I have heard you wanted my advice on passing a new law. What exactly do you have in mind?”

Ian taps his index fingers together, looking splendid in his regalia, golden crown shining as he tips his head, “I’ll be blunt about it. Ownership should be applied to homes, animals, and objects. Not people. Not here. I want it outlawed, immediately”.

The legal expert’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Sire, with the utmost respect, I will remind you that slavery was already repealed. Servitude exists yes, but it is quite an improvement from earlier times”.

“Meager pay and living conditions barely adequate for a beast are the only difference from slavery. I understand this decision will not delight some in the kingdom, but I am set on this” Ian replies firmly, his face as serious as can be, “There is no freedom in servitude”.

The lawyer hums, thinking hard for a moment before he brings his chair closer to the king, laying out their options plainly while a scribe scribbles furiously on parchment in the corner. “Well… you could ordain a new law to prevent any new contract servitudes from being established within your controlled region. This would include migrants entering into the city and protect them from such bonds. However, there is no way to end current servitudes already in place within the city. Those contacts are legal and binding unless the owner sells before the law passes or end the contracts by choice”.

“Very well” the young king answers after a while, looking only slightly crestfallen but overall pleased, “Draw up the documents and prepare the witnesses. I will sign and instate this law as soon as it is ready”.

-

In the end, the ride to the castle between the two men is silent, and Ezio only hopes that Mickey will realize how much the King is risking by making this change when he breaks the news. The peasants and the servants in Νότια πλευρά will be overjoyed by it of course for the sake of their kind, but their masters… likely much less so.

-

Upon Mickey’s arrival to the castle he is hastily escorted to an unfamiliar room, this one with ceilings that seemed to go on forever and intricately carved bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and exquisite artwork placed everywhere. And in the middle of all the splendour was Ian, getting up from his desk with an eager smile as soon as Mickey enters the room.

The arena fighter waits until the heavy study doors are closed with the guard behind them before he returns the king’s smile, still feeling a little uncertain at the urgency of this meeting until Ian reaches him and bends his head just slightly to kiss him. But the sweet kiss quickly turns into a more passionate, needy one, that seems to grow stronger every second, and Mickey finally raises his dark eyebrows, stepping back to look at the young king questioningly.

Ian laughs at his expression, ready to explain himself. “I’m excited. I have some news to share with you”.

-

Mickey listens to the entire story of the meeting Maursus Ian relays to him closely, but he has nothing to say when the king eventually prompts him for a response, the fighter’s voice seemingly gone from his throat.

“Mickey? Did you hear me? It will be outlawed. No more men will be taken in for fighting, or women for anything else, to be chained by a disgusting contract. As of yet I haven’t decided the penalty, but I will make it punishable by death, if you wish”.

_“Mickey?”_

Swallowing hard, Mickey finally looks up at Ian’s eyes. Eyes that were so excited just a few minutes ago, now looking concerned. He wants to reassure the king, but Mickey sort of feels like the marble beneath his feet has shifted, he feels lightheaded from shock. Of course he had heard Ian’s promise to him during their special evening weeks ago, but he had never truly imagined that the king cared for him so deeply as to make a law to protect people like him.

 “I’m not free though, right?” he clarifies when he can finally speak, unable to stop himself. Ian looks crestfallen, and he shakes his head slowly, red hair sliding on his forehead. “I’m afraid not. I could offer to purchase you before the law passes, but-“

“But I wouldn’t want that” Mickey says firmly, finishing the king’s sentence for him. He can literally think of no thing more humiliating. And besides, he made the arena a lot of money. The king making an obscene offer to buy him away would be suspicious, and difficult to hide.

Now Ian is waiting for a real response from him, watching him through hopeful eyes, and Mickey finally breaks, shaking his head in disbelief, so proud of him. “You’re incredible. Don’t know what I did to deserve you being in my life at all, let alone as…”

“As your lover?” Ian asks breathlessly, shifting to stand closer and press himself up against Mickey while the two of them start to weave their hands around each other. The dark-haired man can only nod, kissing Ian’s collarbone while Ian goes for his neck, breath heavy by his ear.


	9. Chapter 9

The young, rash, and impulsive king knows that he should probably stop what he is doing, but everything in his entire physical being is telling him not to, not with his handsome fighter so clearly hard and pressed against his body, needing him. Mickey’s full lips seem softer than ever as well, his strong but unique scent drawing Ian in like a honey bee to a flower, and the king is helpless against it.

He can’t hold out a day longer.

 “My chambers…” Ian finally gets out through their insistent kisses. After a moment of hesitation, he feels Mickey nod his dark head in agreeance before the two of them leave the royal study side by side, barely keeping their composure during their brisk walk past the two sets of statue-esque guards posted in the hallways before reaching his room.

Entering the bedroom after Mickey, Ian closes the heavy wooden chamber doors behind themselves so fast that they let out a loud and solid knock as they shudder against each other, but he barely notices the sound.

His eagerness practically escapes him, but when he turns to smile at his love, it quickly falls away. “Are you alright?” he asks, noticing the unfamiliar expression clouding Mickey’s face as he stands beside the elaborate bed, rubbing the carved lionhead post anxiously. Mickey gnaws on the inside of his pale cheek for a moment longer before he looks away and shrugs low, “I dunno”.

Confused, Ian approaches him, sitting down on his bed and motioning for the fighter to do the same. He waits politely for a moment, but when Mickey offers nothing verbally in explanation for his sudden change in mood, the king asks sadly, “Did I do something to offend you?”

“Course not” Mickey says, scoffing at the suggestion that such a thing was possible, but then he glances over at Ian and looks truly crestfallen.

“It’s just…fuck. I don’t know. I guess I’m not ready for this to be over. These have been the best few months of my life”.

Ian’s heart turns in his chest, not expecting that response at all. Where was this coming from? Was Mickey finished with him? He feels almost sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

“Why would it be over?” he finally manages to get out weakly.

Mickey turns to look him right in the eyes, “You reminded me of tradition when we met. That’s why you didn’t want to fuck right away. You wanted to get to know me first, remember? And now you do”.

Shit. The king catches on quickly now, cursing himself internally. Pigheaded, he had completely missed what must having been going through Mickey’s mind when he invited him back to his chambers in desperation.

But he would _never_ make the decision to just sleep with the fighter and toss him away now. He’d have to be out of his mind to do so.

“Mickey…” he whispers, reaching out to touch the side of his shaven face, “What I said was true. But I said that when I was simply enamoured of you. Now I do know you and I… well, I’m not ready to lose you”.

Mickey smiles a little sadly, shaking his head in disbelief at their situation. “Never thought I’d say this but as much as I want you, and fuck _I want you in me_ …I’d rather keep doing what we are doing if you can’t be with me all the way without ending this”.

The room is very quiet as the two of them sit on the royal bed together, Ian now holding Mickey’s hand, gently rubbing his thumb over it as he explains himself. “When I invited you to my chambers, I wasn’t choosing to have you and then give you up”.

Mickey seems confused. “But-“

“I know the rules” Ian says, cutting the other man off so he can continue, “And I want _you_ Mick. More than I’ve ever wanted any other man. And I don’t mean just in my bed. If I could…I would have you rule this kingdom by my side some day. I want to be your man, your king, before anyone else’s. And if you will have me, I will have you in my bed every night that I can, in my arms, to wake up next to me”.

Mickey raises his dark eyebrows in surprise as he searches the king’s eyes for sincerity, both of them realizing how serious Ian’s words are. And he truly meant them. He would take this risk, to be with him.

“You’d break tradition for me…” Mickey says under his breath, almost to himself.

Ian nods, “Yes. I would. But for both of our safety… we can’t be open about this. It has to remain as hushed as it is now. But I will not give you up. You are as important to me as this entire kingdom, if not more”.

The corners of Mickey’s blue eyes crinkle in happiness as Ian then leans in to kiss him, both feeling like they are floating on their unspoken but clear love for each other.

 “So…what now?” Mickey finally asks bravely, letting out a sigh of relief that turns into a winning smile as Ian starts to lean him back down against the bed. “Now I want to make you feel good…in every way possible” the king murmurs, pushing up his robes to get to Mickey’s soft, smooth cock beneath. Of course, with a few long, slow pulls, it doesn’t remain that way, growing and hardening inside his mouth. It’s a powerful feeling, giving pleasure like this.

Rivetted by what he is doing, with one of Mickey’s hands gripping his moving head and combing through his red hair lovingly as he goes down on him, Ian doesn’t hear his bedroom door being pushed open and neither does the arena fighter. But they both hear the, “What the fuck!” that booms out a second later, making them both jump in surprise.

Whipping his head around after almost choking when Mickey launches upwards, Ian sees his older brother Lip standing there, one hand now dramatically shielding his eyes, the other waving around the room. “ _Jesus Christ Ian!”_ he hisses, although he at least has the sense to be quieter this time, “Are you…uh, are you both covered?” he asks after another moment, looking very uncomfortable.

“Yeah” Ian answers after they both shift into sitting positions, noticing with a glance back how much paler Mickey has gotten. He reaches over to squeeze Mickey’s knee reassuringly before turning back to his unimpressed older brother. “What do you want?” he snaps, annoyed at both being interrupted and how unsettled Mickey is because of it.

“Don’t get pissy with me” Lip retorts, shutting the door more firmly behind himself and pacing over to the empty chair on the other side of the room, “I didn’t know you were dicking around in here”.

Ian rubs at his temple in agitation, thinking maybe he should forgo the security reasons for a king not having a lock on his chambers and have one installed instead. “Ever heard of knocking?” he groans, red eyebrow lifted.

His brother scoffs at the suggestion, “Ian, I’m a prince”.

“Lip _, I’m the king_ ”.

The two royal brothers stare each other down until Lip finally glances over at Mickey again, before doing a quick doubletake. “Wait a second…I recognize you. You’ve been here before. Ezio was leading you down a hallway when I saw you…and I thought you were just a new hand. But you’re not, are you?”

Mickey doesn’t break eye contact with Lip as he slowly shakes his head in confirmation, Ian doing the same before addressing his brother, “He’s the one I was looking for”.

“Yeah I gathered that. Why is he here again, is my question.”

“Not that its any of your business, but we haven’t yet broken any law or tradition, so there’s no questions to be had” Ian answers, nostrils flaring as he gets defensive. Part of him wants to leap in front of Mickey, protect him from this stupid acquisition that is clearly worrying him after their recent conversation. So much for being hushed.

“Bullshit” his brother says calmly, “It’s not normal for a king to be spending so much time with a frigging…you know what. There’s a reason you’ve been hiding this…who else knows?” Lip demands, and for once Ian can tell that although his brother is being a dick, he’s actually worried too, so he swallows his anger before answering.

“His name is Mickey. And no one else knows. Well… Hera and Ezio do. They only prepare rooms or deliver us to one another though. They don’t know any details” Ian mutters, and he sees his brother relax just a little, though his tone is still reproachful when he answers him. “God Ian, I gave up the throne because I thought you could handle it”.

“I _can_ handle it” Ian argues back, “You know damn well how many improvements I have already put in place. Not only are the subjects of my kingdom happier, they are producing significantly higher volumes of goods, which I’ll remind you is improving our trade commerce with the east”.

Lip shakes his head slowly, “I’m not talking about what you’ve done for the kingdom. There are rules for the throne. Why do you think I didn’t take it?

There’s a moment of silence between the three men, and then Ian hears a barely audible, “I’m sorry your Grace, Prince Phillip” from behind himself. Turning to look at Mickey, he sees him staring straight down at the bed, eyes unfocused from guilt, like he’s mentally transformed right back into the arena fighter no one gave a damn about.

Lip starts to nod his head, satisfied, but Ian clears his throat sharply, ready to defend this. Them.

“Lip, you don’t understand what you walked in on. This is not his fault, and Mickey isn’t just a man who comes by for me to mess around with. I… _I care_ , very deeply for him. I would not hide this if I didn’t have to. I am not ashamed of being with him. I know I am very fortunate, in fact”.

“Not as fortunate as me” Mickey answers, a wry little smile on his face as Ian gives him an affectionate look.

“Shit” Lip says, putting his elbows on knees and leaning forward, “You love him”.

He doesn’t say which man he’s talking to, but it doesn’t matter. Its true for both of them, whether they say it aloud or not.

“I need you to help me keep him in my life Lip. I’m not just asking as your king, I’m asking as your brother” Ian pleads, and for once, he knows what its like to feel beneath someone. For someone to really wield power over him. It’s an intimidating thought.

“Obviously I’m not gonna run my mouth Ian. And you are correct by the way, I had no fucking idea what I walked in on. I thought you were just getting used to being the king, enjoying it, and that’s why you’d been so happy lately. That’s what all of us thought, actually” Lip admits.

Curious, Ian asks, “So Debbie, Fiona, Carl…?”

“They have no idea. Well… if they do, they haven’t said anything” Lip confirms.

“Okay. This is okay then. Don’t worry, alright?” Ian says, turning towards Mickey again, “He’s my brother. I trust him with my life, and I know he’ll keep this to himself”.

After a moment of silence, Mickey answers. “I trust you, Ian. So I trust your brother too”.

Lip gets up from the chair he had been sitting on, staring at them for another long moment before he starts to head for the door. “I just came by to let you know that Debbie has a suitor. Well, someone wants to be her suitor”.

Ian shakes his head in denial, much more calm than he had been just moments ago. “She’s much too young. You know that, Lip”.

“Yeah I do, but King Everett thinks otherwise. It’s his son, Wallace. He’s here right now, and I told Ezio I would retrieve you”.

“Shit” Ian says, getting up from the bed and hastily putting his crown back on his head before fixing his robes. “Mickey…I have to deal with this now. I’m sorry” he apologizes, hands tied by duty, “I’ll make up for it”.

“Send Ezio whenever you want to see me” Mickey smiles back, and the promising look on his face restores the contented feeling in King Ian’s chest. He wishes he could kiss the man without his older brother rolling his eyes, but he does touch his hand affectionately without shame before the three men leave the royal bedchamber together.

-

~Lip’s Perspective~  


It’s strange. As soon as the male peasant is gone, Ian seems to almost visibly darken in mood, shaking himself off repeatedly and gritting his teeth before he enters the room Prince Wallace Everett is waiting within, donning a fake smile just in time to greet the man from Βόρεια πλευρά.

Prince Phillip is still quite honestly bewildered by what he walked in on between the two of them, but his loyalty to his brother is pure, and he gave Ian his word. Besides, they have a greater issue at hand right now than some wayward romance, and its their little sister’s future.

“Prince Wallace! What a pleasant surprise” Ian lies, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly as he takes a seat and motions for a glass of wine from the male attendant waiting in the corner. Lip gestures for one as well, both brothers _appearing_ to be quite welcoming to their guest as he gives them a crooked toothed smile back.

Wallace Everett. If the Gallaghers believed as most in their era do that marriages should be made as business arrangements above all else, he would be a perfect match for their younger sister.

In fact, because it logistically made sense, Lip himself had feared this day might come for Fiona or Debbie. But he never mentioned it to his siblings, hoping he was wrong. Maybe that was a mistake.

Though Prince Everett had the appropriate wealth and status for a Princess to marry, he was wrong for Debbie in every other sense. Twelve years older than their youngest sister, he is balding at the unfortunately young age of twenty-six, and one of his front teeth is abysmally damaged in growth. His physical appearance is not even the issue at hand however, though Debbie might disagree. He is highly unlikely to ever be crowned as the fourth son of King Everett, especially with two of his older brothers being war heroes. Debbie would not hold enough power to protect herself within the family.

Still further troubling, is the kingdom he belongs to.

Νότια πλευρά and Βόρεια πλευρά have a weak agreement to peace among kingdoms that exists only for the sake of trade, forged the same day of the battle that was painted in the great hallway of the castle, a win for the South. Both kingdoms were to this day still entirely different from one another, both secretly hoping that one day they could swallow up the other yet fearing the same in return. A royal marriage between the two ruling families would make the two kingdoms allies, bound by blood, and unlikely to ever attack each other, which has undeniable benefits.

But Lip knows that Ian, like himself, would never risk their younger sister’s life in that way. She was not a pawn to be traded, and he has no doubt that this unsavory match was borne of King Everett’s mind.

“My dear King Ian, I suppose you’ve already heard why I’ve come on this lovely day” Wallace leads after receiving a glass of wine, grinning from one man to the next. The two brothers exchange a brief glance.

“Yes, indeed I have. Of course, I am honored by such an offer, and I am certain my sister would be as well. However…” Ian pauses, and Lip clears his throat, wishing he could step in and give a piece of his fucking mind to the other prince, but he knows it would be both inflammatory and inappropriate. Another reason he would have made a poor king. He could not control his temper.

“…she is simply too young. Only fourteen in fact” Ian finishes firmly.

“Well yes of course, now she is” Prince Wallace nods, turning a little red in the face at the implication, “That is why I am here however. To secure the promise of a union with, ahem, stipulations in place, before she turns any older and attracts other suitors”.

Ian nods, his green-blue eyes calculating but outwardly polite as he stares down the prince, older than he. “Is that so. Forgive me for asking, but if you want to secure a marriage for yourself from our kingdom, you know we also have an older sister, Princess Fiona. Why is there no interest in her?”

Lip turns still in his chair, pausing with his glass of wine hallway to his lips. Dangerous game Ian’s playing. Smart, but dangerous…

“Well she-“ the foolish Prince cuts himself off, but not soon enough. The implication is clear. “She what?” Ian asks, calmly sipping his wine and tilting his head. Checkmate, Lip thinks in satisfaction.

“M-my father says she is not known to be virtuous. The younger one, assuming she still-“

“-Princess Debbie” Ian corrects sharply, “You know Prince Wallace, although I appreciate your and your father’s interest in a matrimonial union, you may tell him that both of my beautiful sisters are both free to chose who they will marry, once approved by myself. Therefore, no such… arrangement, will be made for them”.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, the Prince stands up quickly, obviously deeply offended but keeping himself in check.

“Thank you for your time your Grace. I regret this meeting did not go as I had hoped”.

Lead out of the room by the male attendant, Lip finally glances over at his younger brother once they are alone, who is clearly deep in thought, his red brows furrowed.

“Considering it?” Lip asks, concerned that Ian may have changed his mind. But to his relief, his brother scoffs. “Debbie will never have to marry into Everett’s reign. Not as long as I have the throne. I would sooner go back to war with them”.


	10. Chapter 10

 “Ew, I don’t want to marry him! Or live there!” Debbie exclaims in obvious fear when Ian and Lip finally break the news to her of King Everett’s intentions for her and his son, “ _Please_ don’t make me go!” she wails.

“Don’t worry little sister, you won’t have to. I told him no” Ian assures her protectively, “But we do have to be aware that there may be repercussions for what his father will surely take as an offensive rejection to a conjugal union”.

“And how might we respond if there _are_ repercussions?” his older sister Fiona asks, clearly unsettled by the news as she pats her younger sister’s red hair to soothe her.

King Ian wishes that he could promise his family that absolutely nothing will happen, but he honestly wouldn’t put it past Everett to punish them with anything from increasing tariffs to ending necessary trade with them altogether.

In fact, the only thing reassuring Ian that such “punishment” is unlikely to happen at this time is that it could lead to war, which neither kingdom currently wants. At least Ian’s throne has the kingdom to the East, Ανατολή, as an ally, but as far as he knows, Βόρεια πλευρά still stands alone, with only peace treaties in place with the other kingdoms within their region.

“It is…unlikely anything will happen. But I will be speaking to advisors at the soonest opportunity” he reassures his sister.

For now, that will have to be enough.

“Well, Ian and I should be off to the arena now” Lip says, noticing how Ezio arrives at the doorway respectfully and waits for them to rise. That at least is some good news, its time to go, and Ian fights his overwhelming eagerness to get up and leave immediately, to escape from the stress at the royal table.

“The arena? I thought Ian didn’t like the fights?” Fiona asks in confusion, over Carl’s repeated (but ignored) requests to take him with them too.

“Change of heart” Lip responds for him smoothly, to which Ian can only nod. Change of heart indeed.

-

They take the royal carriage to the arena, chatting normally about common topics due to the presence of an attendant with food and drink in case they should want for anything during the short journey. Ezio is there too of course, and he goes ahead once they arrive so the arena’s manager, Obelius, can be fetched to greet them properly.

He is an unpleasant looking man, wearing several gaudy ornamental rings on rather long fingers, but he bows respectfully at the sight of them before greeting them enthusiastically, his voice slick with intent.

“Your _Graces_ , what a pleasure and honor it is to have you both here today at the arena. I must admit, I was rather astonished to hear you wanted to attend both a practice session _and_ a show, usually we don’t let anyone see the fighters as they train and prepare. It can ruin the fun, you know”.

“I enjoyed my last visit here. My brother and I seek only entertainment today and a place to speak at ease” Ian answers, and the manager nods respectfully in response as he leads them into the stadium himself. “You will assuredly have a private place in the stands. As I have said, we are not open to the public except during the shows themselves, and I will have our finest refreshments sent to you shortly. Practice begins in approximately a quarter hour, milords, the fighters are just getting ready now”.

Nodding their thanks with polite smiles, the brothers take their seats with an excellent view of the arena below, which is currently being cleaned by two unfamiliar fighters. Crooked feathers and dark blood are scattered into the dirt in a rough circle, suggesting a cock fight had taken place this morning, with the loser being torn to shreds. Perhaps by an arena dog sometime after the fight, come scrounging for a meal.

“Thanks for coming with me” Ian mutters after he takes a gulp of warm beer from the mug brought to him shortly after they sat down and were left alone, “Makes it less…”

“Newsworthy? I would argue me being here makes it more so” Lip grins teasingly, but he takes the brotherly slug Ian lands in his shoulder with a good-natured laugh before adding, “I do know what you mean. Brothers going out for a spectacle like this is much more natural than the king going alone, or with a handful of servants to see such a thing out of the blue”.

“Exactly” Ian agrees, craning his neck for a better view as the arena once cleared out starts to fill up with racks of weapons and a few battered wooden targets. Men are beginning to mill out from the normally barred gate as well, all very muscular and strong looking.

Obelius apparently doesn’t even house the weaker ones at the arena, they are only thrown in to feed the crowd’s love for the champions, like deer into the lion’s pit. Ian shivers at the thought. He’s only seen Mickey fight once. He knows he is strong but…

The King prays his fighter is a lion.

-

Mickey dons the slightly better-quality leather armour fighters are allowed to wear during training sessions, because as Obelius has always reminded them, your deaths and injuries are worthless if there’s no one there paying to see them.

Fucking prick.

He in fact stops Mickey as he leaves his simple room to head out towards the arena with the other fighters trickling out from their own, grabbing his bared arm with a low snarl.

“You better not let me down today Mikhailo. The king and his brother are here to watch your sorry asses practice, and then to see a fight. Make it a fucking good one”.

Mickey yanks his arm away from the tight grasp, the smell of Obelius’ rank breath so close to his face nauseating. “I always put on a good show” he grumbles.

But his master isn’t done with him yet, letting out a low and cruel laugh to antagonize him into a mood before training. “Watch your self. I could have you killed out there, if I wanted to. Bet the king would come see more fights if I did”.

Mickey wants to argue with him, or better yet knock his fucking lights out, but he doesn’t have a true death wish and he could be hanged for attacking his master. Ian didn’t have the power to do anything about that. Instead, he presses his lips into a line and nods once before Obelius lets him go, kicking at him like he’s a mangy dog as he walks away.

Red in the face from embarrassment and anger even though no one was left in the hall to see the exchange, Mickey at least has the chance to look up at Ian and his brother in the stands before he starts, customarily signaling to them respectfully just as every other fighter had before him.

The king’s grin is undeniably happy at the sight of him, and his support being here meant a lot to Mickey. Even if it was embarrassing at times, this is what he did, and he was _good_ at it. Quickly covering the smile that tries to take over his own lips at the sight of Ian’s, Mickey puts on his game face and goes to match up with Nicos for hand to hand combat practice.

While Nicos and Mickey square off, throwing and landing and blocking punches, kicks, and any other strike imaginable, the other four fighters also selected for practice today do the same. It was unlucky to end up with practice and a fight on the same day, especially if you got injured, but Obelius didn’t really give a shit. And besides, with Ian in the stands secretly cheering him on, Mickey felt like he could take on the fucking world if he had to.  

-

Lip has to literally to nudge his brother Ian every so often to remind him to pull his eyes away from Mickey and spectate on the other fighters instead, just in case any of them happened to notice how focused he is just one of them.

Tensing whenever Mickey gets hit, visibly proud whenever he lands a good move.

If Lip doubted Ian’s sincerity about caring for the other man at all before, he certainly doesn’t now.

Obelius visits them in the stands at some point, much to Ian’s dislike, because he has to drag some of his attention away from the sight below. But it does give him a chance to casually ask, “Who’s fighting today?” as if he doesn’t already know Mickey is one of them.

The sleazy manager jabs a thumb downwards. “That one over there, with the black hair. We were gonna pit him against some loser not housed here, but I’d like to make it a little more interesting for you today, your Grace”.

That catches Ian’s attention, and not in a good way. “That’s not necessary” he says, careful to keep his voice indifferent, but Obelius insists, “It will be a good show, that I can promise! Andrus over there is a beast, but Mikhailo is much faster. Will be most entertaining to see who wins between the two of them”.

Ian’s eyes skirt over towards the other man Obelius has pointed out, a gigantic, dark skinned individual with a cleanly shaved head that’s shining in the sunlight as his pins down his opponent easily. Fuck. This is not what he wanted. “I don’t think that’s-“

“MIKHAILO!” Obelius bellows, catching Mickey’s attention from below abruptly, “Change of plans for today’s fight. How do you feel about facing off with Andrus?”

Clearly Obelius doesn’t give a flying fuck about how Mickey feels about it, but Mickey and Andrus look over at each other and nod respectfully. Hopefully they are friends, Ian thinks desperately, maybe Andrus will go easier on him. He was supposed to lie with Mickey for the first time tonight, with Hera given the day to prepare his chambers, and now he’s worried he won’t even get him back in one piece.  

“Whatever you wish” Mickey calls back, chancing only a glance towards Ian. His eyes seem to be trying to tell him something, but Ian unfortunately can’t tell what.

“Good” Obelius answers, before calling out sharply to the rest of the fighters, “Change it up brutes!” He excuses himself before leaving the stands to bully the fighters and boss them around as they begin to grab weapons to practice with instead.

At least they are given helmets, and some now light metal armour.

“Way to go” Lip says as Ian groans, “That monster is gonna flatten him”.

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Ian says, biting his lip as he spectates more anxiously now that weapons are involved. And this is just practice! He’s starting to sweat just from worry. Mickey has a short sword in his right hand and a shield against his other arm, darting around Nicos as they stab and slice and swing at each other, every so often a sickening thud hitting their shields.

“I was joking. Look at him. Mickey isn’t scared” Lip points out, and its true that the fighter seems more focused than ever. He doesn’t glance towards Ian even once, and his movements get swifter and faster towards the end of practice.

And just like that, Obelius is calling out, ordering them to clear out the arena and get ready for the big fight. Without looking back, Mickey jogs lightly back inside with the rest of the fighters except for one, who stays to clear out the arena floor before the arena goers start to enter the empty stands, clearly ready for a fight.

Ian waves politely and smiles at the ones who call out to them in excitement, his brother clearly loving the female attention from the crowd, but they are still separate enough in the specially built portion of the stands for any royal attenders that they can speak without being heard. Mostly its just nervous muttering from the king.

“Breathe Ian” Lip reminds him when half an hour later a metallic click rings out and the barred doors that had been dropped slowly lift to let out the fighters from two separate entrances. The crowd goes absolutely wild when they see the unexpected pairing, stamping and shouting for them to kill each other, rip each other part, while Ian starts to feel nauseas.

 _Have faith in him,_ he reminds himself, steadying his hand on his chair. He needs you to believe in him, and to be as _brave_ as he is. When both fighters turn to respectfully signal towards their shared king, Ian looks at Mickey with nothing but love, and he hopes Mickey can see that.

From the little smile on his face before he quickly gets into a fighting stance, he did.

-

The horn blasts through the sound of the crowd, but instead of lunging forward, Mickey waits. Fighting, believe it or not, was an art of its own. Mickey knew that each opponent had different strengths, and different _weaknesses._ Even on days that he didn’t have to train, he came out and watched his fellow fighters train, memorized how they moved and attacked. He didn’t have that advantage when visiting fighters arrived, but he did have it with Andrus.

Heavy-footed, Andrus soon lumbers towards him like a bull, ready to obliterate him. His most common opening move, especially when he wants to knock an opponent out instead of kill them.

And funnily enough, the two of them actually get along quite well most days in their shared living spaces, but there is no room for friendship during fights. Only respect if you believe the other fighter deserves it.

At the last second, right before what would probably be a bone breaking impact, Mickey darts to the right, causing Andrus to stumble and land on his knees when he hits only air and shudders forwards. A hard punch to the back of his skull makes him yell, and then Mickey has to back away again, as Andrus is already getting back to his feet, making his gigantic hands into fists.

Mickey knows he has to bring Andrus down before weapons get involved. He doesn’t want to kill the other man, but he needs to win. He needs to get his opponent exhausted, and quickly. So he employs somewhat of a cat and mouse technique for the next half hour. Not his favorite, but effective against a fighter of this size. He gets a few strikes in here and there while Andrus eventually begins to pour sweat, blinking into the shining sunlight and grunting when Mickey avoids him again and again.

He does land one punch though, so hard in Mickey’s stomach that he is thrown backwards by it into the dirt, but he scrambles to his elbows and rolls to the side just in time to avoid being stomped on. He’s getting tired, but Andrus is worse off, dizzy too now, and gritting his teeth, Mickey takes another hit on purpose to force Andrus to lower towards him.

This is his chance. As soon as Andrus nears enough in an attempt to pin him, Mickey punches and then knees him in the head, knocking him out cold just in time to avoid the second stage of the fight.

He’s tired, so fucking tired, when the official comes over to raise his fist in triumph after he edges out from beneath his opponent, but its all worth it when he looks up and sees Ian’s glowing face in the stands, clapping fiercely for him, crown glinting in the sun.

-

“God he’s fucking beautiful” Ian whispers, biting his fist wantonly before Lip reaches over and smacks him. “Keep it in your robes” his brother mutters, but he claps for Mickey too, right up until Ezio arrives to escort them out of the stands before the rest of the crowd, a royal privilege.

Once they are in a darkened corridor underneath the stands, Ezio begins to lead them through the tunnel towards the opposite end of the arena, where Mickey’s room is.

He pauses in front of the closed door, “My lord, please do not waste time here. The sooner he is ready to return to the carriage with us the better. I’ve sent the attendant back ahead already”.

“We won’t be long” Ian promises, pulling his eyes away from his brother and his servant to knock politely on the door. It takes Mickey a minute or so to collect himself, and by the time the door opens the other two are gone for the carriage, leaving just Ian standing there.

“C’mere” Mickey immediately mutters, pulling Ian into his room and against his lips. He’s covered in sweat and dirt, even a little blood, but fuck if there’s a part of Ian that just wants to take him like an animal here and now. He would too, if they had the time to really enjoy it.

He strokes Mickey’s damp and stubbled cheek, kissing him again hungrily before he murmurs, “I’m so proud of you. You’re incredible you know. I thought…”

He trails off, slightly embarrassed now by his own doubt, but just Mickey laughs, stepping back to pull off his fighting uniform and yank on a slightly cleaner set of day robes instead. “You thought he’d smash me into pieces” he says, as his dark head pops up from the material, “But I’ve been doing this my whole life. Been beaten within an inch of my life. I always come back on top”.

“That I’d like to see” Ian answers, raising a red eyebrow at the fighter as they head for the door together. Mickey checks the hallway before quickly pulling him out of the ramshackle room and towards the cobbled stairs, “You will soon enough” he promises.


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as they arrive at the castle under the cover of darkness, a dirt-streaked Mickey subtly asks Ian if he can wash up a little in private before they begin their evening together.

Slightly disappointed to spend any time away from him but still wanting to give Mickey whatever he wished for after his incredible win today, Ian agrees to have Ezio escort Mickey to his own private room to bathe in after sneaking in a quick parting kiss against his stubbled cheek.

The young king on the other hand, heads straight to his room to eagerly wait for him and finds it to be prepared just to his liking, with several added touches present that he had requested from Hera the day before. Knowing tonight was the night he would make up for their last opportunity being interrupted, Ian wanted it to be perfect for Mickey and himself.

 A warm fire crackles in its place near the pool, by which a stack of crisply white linen towels has been artfully folded. His bedside table made of a rare dark wood hosts a decorative pitcher filled with full-bodied red wine and a small assortment of edible delicacies. And perhaps most importantly, nestled on top of one of the many fancy pillows on the rest, is a bottle of oil, and a small hand towel beside it.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Ian takes off his crown and strips out of his clothing before stepping down into the bathing pool to wash off his own sweat and dirt from the stressful day in the arena. As he begins to lather soap in his hands to rub over his body, he imagines how it will finally be being with Mickey the way he’s wanted to for so long.

-

True to his nature, Mickey does his best not to show that he is in pain in front of Ezio, insisting the other man turns away from him while he takes off his robes to step into the pool, but it is an uncommon practice for servants of the royal family to ignore the person they are serving, and Ezio soon turns to face him again once Mickey has dropped into the pool with a sigh, white towel hanging off his arm for Mickey when he wants it.

Mickey grunts in discomfort at his nearby presence, used to having only the company of other boisterous fighters washing up in public bathing pools rather than a servant standing by.

“You uh, you can sit down or whatever” he mumbles, unsure of himself but wanting to feel less out of place.

Was he even allowed to tell Ezio that?

“It is fine, I have been instructed to treat you as I do the royal family” Ezio answers, eyes politely held upwards. Mickey chews the inside of his cheek, unsure of what else to say.

Finally, he just answers, “’kay” before turning to reach for a bar of soap. He grits his teeth and lets out a little hiss when he turns to grab for it though, confirming what he had been afraid of earlier. Glancing down at his chest, he sees a deep purple bruise darkening his left side, but he can tell the damage runs deeper than the surface of his skin.

“This is why you wished to bathe alone” Ezio states calmly, and Mickey looks up to see the other man has clearly noticed the problem as well, his attention caught by Mickey’s sound of discomfort, who had been hoping to figure out a way to hide it from Ian, hence the private bath.

“Just don’t want him to be upset. I’ll be fine. Just… cracked or bruised a rib” Mickey confirms, hesitantly turning his body a little more to confirm his self-diagnosis. Andrus had landed a solid punch on the left side of his ribcage during their fight, and leftover adrenaline had just kept him from noticing the pain until the carriage was already halfway to castle.

“I don’t believe you can hide it from him” Ezio says, handing Mickey a towel once he’s finished gently rubbing the soap and dirt away from his body, “But perhaps I can ease your pain and thus ease his concern. I will return shortly”.  With that, Ian’s favorite advisor and servant is gone, and Mickey sniffs, dripping bathwater to the floor as he stands with a soft towel wrapped around his hips.

It’s still absurdly strange to him whenever he looks around at the extreme elegance and wealth reflected in every aspect of his surroundings. How did someone like him end up being wanted here?

“Here, drink this all at once” Ezio says, returning to the room quite suddenly with a small vial and interrupting his thoughts.

A clear liquid is held inside it, and after uncorking it, Mickey takes a quick sniff of the odorless liquid before looking at him skeptically, dark eyebrow arched in hesitation.  

“It’s not poison” Ezio scoffs, “Do you really think I would do such a thing? His royal highness would execute me himself”.

He certainly has a point. With a shrug in his defence, Mickey tips the vial back and drinks the liquid, finding it quite bitter and harsh as it slides down his throat, but then almost instantly, he feels a pleasant warmth spread through his body, and moments later, the pain is beginning to subside from his chest.

“I suggest you…take care not to overly strain yourself tonight” Ezio then says carefully, obviously aware of what the plan is for tonight, but Mickey just pretends he didn’t hear the suggestion, heading for the doorway instead, “I can go there myself. I know the way”.

Thankfully Ezio drops the subject and doesn’t argue with his request, maybe because Ian’s chambers are so close by, maybe because he knows the king himself wouldn’t appreciate having Ezio show up in tow with his lover. He’s ordered the connected hallways cleared for a reason.

Either way, Mickey soon arrives at his destination, and gently raps his knuckles on the impressively carved door before he hears a familiar voice say in anticipation, “You may enter”.

Mickey raises a dark eyebrow at the king once he steps inside his luxurious chambers and finds him still relaxing in his pool, long arms arched around the back of it as he faces him quite comfortably.

Closing the heavy chamber door behind himself, Mickey drops his towel to the floor, leaving himself bared.

“Your Highness” he says, keeping his face serious until Ian bites his bottom lip and shakes his head in disbelief, obviously stroking himself beneath the water.

His sparkling eyes focus in on Mickey’s toned chest after his face, travelling downwards in a pathway of admiration, “ _Goddamn you’re so…_ ” he begins to compliment, “wait, what is that...? Is that a bruise?”

 Mickey quickly shakes his head as he sees Ian’s expression start to change from one of arousal to one of worry. “Looks a lot worse than it feels” he assures, even poking at it to show the king that he’s fine. Well, he is now. Probably owes Ezio for this one.

“Hmm. Okay then. Go lay down on the bed…I want to massage you” Ian practically purrs, pulling himself up out of his bath and reaching for a towel to pat himself dry. He’s already visibly hard, and Mickey feels himself stiffen a bit just in response to the sight, but he obediently goes to lay down on his stomach on the glorious bedspread, wondering at how silky and soft it feels beneath him.

After rubbing a hand over the material just to appreciate it, he inspects at the bottle resting near his head. “This to massage me with?” he asks curiously, as Ian approaches him, now mostly dry and climbing to position himself over him while simultaneously handing him a goblet of wine.

“Among other things” the king answers, “It’s actually infused with vanilla bean pods. It smells incredible”.

That seems to be true, Mickey thinks, as Ian settles himself comfortably on top of him before slowly pouring out some slick oil on his shoulders and back. It’s slightly warm to the touch, and he lets out a sigh into his wine goblet as Ian’s hand start to knead down his back, gently pushing and rolling into his overworked muscles from the day.

“Fuck Ian…” he later mumbles into his arm, partly from the massage, and partly from the sensation of Ian’s heat and hardness just above his ass. It’s intoxicating, and he’s torn between relaxation and arousal, having finished his wine long ago.

Ian had been working silently, immersed in his loving work on Mickey’s back while he ate and drank, but now he shifts downwards and starts to massage lower, his strong hands forming large circles and firm squeezes of his buttocks, and Mickey can hear him let out the softest groan.

He feels pretty fucking amorous himself now that they can enjoy this without fear of losing each other right afterwards, and he admits to the king without thinking, “I thought about this all the fucking time. Just…just wanting you to wreck me”.

“You did?” Ian asks behind him, pausing for a moment in interest, “Tell me. What did you do?”

Mickey hesitates just a moment before telling him honestly, “I’d put my fist around my cock and think about you at night, spit down and rub myself hard.  Your eyes. Your smile. Your fuckin red hair. Your…oh fuck…”

The fighter can’t help but close his eyes and bite his bottom lip as an overwhelming sensation overtakes him, the king’s strong hands now spreading his ass apart while he moves his mouth around his hole, not shy to explore with his tongue. Mickey’s nerves feel like they are sparking from the feeling, and his body twitches in response when the king praises hotly, “You taste incredible”.

More oil covers Mickey next before being rubbed into the proper place, and then he feels fingers brush against his still tightly closed hole to relax it. Ian shifts in the bed to be closer to him, bringing him into a loving open-mouthed kiss before he gently begins to push one finger inside, parting Mickey slowly, one finger in and out, and then two, for so long it begins to become antagonizing.

Breathing in an erratic rhythm together, their hearts beating fast, Mickey answers so “ _yes_ ” quickly when the king finally asks, “ _Are you ready for me_?” that he almost interrupts him. Taking Mickey’s scraped up hand in his own, Ian with no hesitation slips behind his body in the bed before pushing himself up against him, their bodies aligning with only one thing amiss.

Mickey’s skin already feels heated and flushed with want, and when Ian’s soft lips caress his neck at the same time he slowly begins to push himself inside of Mickey’s tightness, he feels his body alight, taking everything he needed.

-

Mickey’s body had automatically fought him at first, ready to spring into defence like the fighter himself always was, but when Ian kisses his neck and holds his hand against Mickey’s chest, his muscles eventually relax and Ian slides inside of him more easily, both of them letting out a small gasp as they finally manifest their physical and emotional love for each other.

Mickey’s toned and solid body pressed against his own gives King Ian something to hold onto tightly as he rocks his hips over and over again into heaven, burying his face in Mickey’s neck when the fighter starts to join his rhythm, letting out a small moan when he guides Ian to the place inside of himself that drives him wild.

“I need you” Mickey finally gasps out, his muscles tightening around Ian as he groans and pushes forward to show it.

Murmuring soft words against his lover’s ear about how fucking good he feels, Ian grips his hand tighter with Mickey’s against his chest, thrusting harder and faster while the bed begins to protest, the two of them so focused on each other that they hardly notice its responsive cadence.

 _“I need you too_ ” Ian says, his voice almost breaking the closer and closer he gets to finishing, and when it finally happens he cries out and grips Mickey’s pale hips, getting his final pumps in roughly before Mickey tenses in front of him and orgasms onto the red sheets.

“Fuck” Mickey whispers, sweat misting his forehead as he soon turns to look at Ian’s own hazy eyes, the king immediately pressing his lips against Mickey’s.

He’s so overcome he can barely speak, so he just touches Mickey’s body gently, and kisses his lips, his mind overwhelmed with his feelings for the other man, now even stronger than before.

-

_I know that you’ve seen all the ways that my body can talk,_

_But I never heard it like, I never heard it like that, before._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Change in my living situation has me busier than usual

 When Mickey awakens in the middle of the night, he isn’t sure where he is at first, but that unusual feeling doesn’t alarm him.

He instead feels an incredible softness enveloping his body, and when he opens his eyes he sees warm coals glowing behind a metal grate across the room, carefully contained and gently lighting up a marbled pool of water. But more than all of that, he is acutely aware of a heavy arm resting over his body, holding him tenderly close, and reminding him of where he is.

Stirring slightly, he feels Ian moving behind him, and it finally occurs to him that he fell asleep in the king’s bed, wrapped up in the king himself’s arms.

He feels so safe though, and so complete, that he considers pretending to be asleep for a while longer, until he hears a whisper behind himself in the dim room, _“Mickey_?”

 _“Mmm?”_ he answers gently, pushing affectionately back into Ian’s embrace. The king happily holds him closer, but at the same time Mickey can feel that Ian is hard again, needing him, and it stirs a feeling deep inside of him, a feeling that he needs to provide for the man he loves.

He moves subtly to press his buttocks against Ian’s stiffness invitingly, and in response the king breathes out gratefully by his ear, lowering his mouth to kiss and then gently bite at Mickey’s shoulder while all the while gently sliding his cock up between Mickey’s smooth cheeks. A low aroused rumble soon sounds in his throat before he pushes the tip of his cock against Mickey, and all the fighter can think in his mind is, “Hold me closer. _Tighter_ ”.

He doesn’t think he said anything out loud…but then again perhaps he did, as Ian’s long fingers immediately spread between his own, joining them together right in a tight embrace right before he grinds his hips forward, both of them letting out a quiet groan of pleasure together. Ian soon pauses briefly behind him though, taking a moment to just appreciate what’s in front of him, in his bed, in his home, and not just in his dreams.  

Mickey.

They make love more gently the second time, easing into a rhythmic pace that builds to an overflow before they both curse and cling to each other to catch their breath. Before they come apart though, Ian pauses and presses his forehead to Mickey’s, damp sweat mingling on their skin before he moves to kiss Mickey’s lips lovingly.

He’s never felt more like a king than he does right now.

-

Mickey wakes up to a strange sound in the morning, one quite unfamiliar to an arena fighter’s ears, as he opens his blue eyes and blinks into the extravagant room that is now filled with sunlight.

Blinking as he eases himself into a sitting position on the gigantic bed, he sees a woman bent over across the room, placing a laden tray on Ian’s table while a blonde infant slung around her waist in a cotton carrier gurgles again happily.

“Shh now Belen” she whispers lovingly to the baby. When she turns after placing the tray down to leave the room however, she seems surprised to see Mickey awake, and immediately lowers her eyes respectfully.

“I am sorry! The King asked me to deliver food for when you woke up, but he seemed to have been under the impression you would sleep through the morning” she says, hastily moving into a bow while Mickey clutches some royal red sheets to his body to modestly cover himself up.

“Nah, don’t…it’s okay” Mickey says, hurriedly waving away her apology as it made him uncomfortable, “Uh… where is Ia- I mean… where is the king?”

This answer comes quickly, “He had to attend to some business matters, he said he didn’t want to wake you”.

Mickey is truly surprised that Ian let the woman into his chambers knowing Mickey was still sprawled out naked in his bed, and to serve him in fact. Clearly, the king didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her. So instead of making some bullshit excuse as to why is in Ian’s bed, he just nods his understanding, before gesturing towards the kid in confusion. It wasn’t normal for servants to lug their rug rats around, was it?

“Who’s the little guy?”

“My son” she beams as she collects her basket to head out of the room, “Belen, and my name is Hera”.

“Belen and Hera” Mickey repeats, before adding, “Mickey”.

She blushes a light shade of pink before she backs out of the room, “Oh, I know who you are. The king speaks very highly of you. I hope you know…he cares for you very deeply. Not many would risk what he does, regardless of love”.

More and more though, as crazy as it did seem, Mickey was beginning to accept that the king, Ian, clearly did have genuine love for him in his heart.

What a miraculous thing indeed.

-

Ian sighs, the golden crown feeling heavier on his head than usual as he sits in an urgent meeting with a handful of advisors, including Ezio, and his older brother Lip.

The matter he had been called upon to deal with this morning was apparently an issue that had been growing for some time now but could no longer be contained without his knowledge of it.

Now, he’s been listening to arguments for well over two hours.

“We are ready to go to battle, should it be required” the military commander informs him confidently, while across from him the trades advisor shakes his head again.

“No, no, _no_. It would be economic suicide, and frankly my King, I’ll remind you-“

“-Perhaps we should let the King himself speak” Ezio’s voice finally rings out, clear and steady. The rest of the table falls quiet, quickly admonished by his clear disapproval for their growing excitement and agitation over the topic.

Ian nods his head in thanks to his steadfast friend, but truth be told, he has no clear thought on what to say. He isn’t sure what the right action is.  

“How long have the refugees been arriving from Everett’s kingdom?” he asks, trying to place in his head how much time had passed since he last saw the king.

“For weeks sire. Shortly after you placed your deed outlawing servitude, those in a position to be placed within it have been leaving his kingdom to seek safety in yours” Ezio informs him, parchments with heavy blank ink placed on the table before him.

“Right. And then a few days ago, I turned down his offer of marriage between Princess Deborah and Prince Wallace” Ian adds, with a sinking feeling. If he didn’t know the truth himself, it certainly looked like he was gearing up for a fight against Βόρεια πλευρά.

His advisors all nod solemnly, while Lip chews the inside of his cheek, deep in thought, before he reaches over to get Ian’s attention with a gentle punch on the arm.

“He hasn’t called for war yet though Ian. My guess is, Δυτική πλευρά has not settled on a peace agreement with his kingdom. So he’s outnumbered, as far as we know”.

“Right” Ian argues back, “But that could change. Ugh…here’s what we know; he’s probably more pissed off at our kingdom than he ever has been, for not only did we barely have peace to begin with, I then changed a law that ended up screwing him over without realizing it. He’s losing subjects and facing rebellion, so then reached out for a matrimonial peace bond, and I…turned that down too”.

His commander speaks up again, “As it currently stands, my king, we can go to war with him to try once and for all to claim Βόρεια πλευρά as your own, or we can turn away and return his refugees in a show of solidarity with his laws”.

“I can’t turn those people away!” Ian says, getting worked up again. He had been shown some of King Everett’s subjects who were seeking a safe haven, and if they returned after breaking his kingly law, they would be stoned to death or hung. And yet at the same time, war never meant safety, so what was riskier? How could he choose who to protect?

“…I think perhaps, we should let the king think for some time on his own, while we continue to come up with alternatives that can bring peace to both kingdoms” Ezio states, after a long and stressful silence, “My king, it is our job to do the research and advise before you make a decision. Let us do so, please. It will bring you peace of mind once you make the most informed decision”.

Ian looks over at him and nods, exhausted and more grateful for the man than ever. When running the entire kingdom, he didn’t have enough specific knowledge in any singular area to make an emotional call on anything this important, and he knew that. That’s why had these advisors, yet even they seemed stumped.

“We can reconvene as soon as there are alternatives to be presented to me. I thank you for your patience, and loyalty to the crown” Ian finally manages to address the table as he gets up.

He’s dying to retreat to his room and crawl into bed with Mickey, to find comfort in him, and he wastes no time leaving the tension filled hall to find him.

-

Mickey finishes peeling his third boiled egg and eats it too, content to eat the food left for him slowly over the next hour while he checks out Ian’s chambers, fingers lingering over impressive stonework and carvings. One of the castle’s cats had shown up too, scratching to be let in, and assuming he had smelled a mouse or a rat and wanted to hunt it, Mickey now had the striped creature’s company as well.

When Ian shows up, he’s scratching the old unsuccessful cat’s head after feeding it a little piece of egg, and Ian pauses, eyeing the cat in amusement for a moment before Mickey laughs and admits, “I don’t know if he’s supposed to be in here. He really wanted to come in though”.

“As a rule, I don’t let them in. They are here to keep the castle free of vermin. But I have to admit…I don’t mind him keeping you company. He may be taking advantage of you though” Ian says, gesturing towards the purring cat.

Mickey chuckles, getting up from the bed to go and kiss Ian because he’s happy to see him again, but only then does he notice the tension in Ian’s face, and how different his eyes look than usual.

“You okay?” he asks, running his hands down over Ian’s arms as he looks him over, like maybe there’s something physically wrong that he can spot and fix.

“No” Ian mumbles, before going over to his bed and slowly laying down like he’s in pain, the striped cat immediately hurrying away. Mickey lets the beast out before coming back over to Ian in concern, gently stroking his hair as he lays down beside him on the bed, bewildered.

“What happened?”

Ian’s eyes look watery as he admits quietly, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, “I…I’m causing problems with the South. I didn’t mean to, but its too late now, and I don’t know if I can change anything. I don’t want to be responsible for needless death, and I feel… I feel like a fucking failure. I should have never taken the crown. I’m young and I don’t know what I’m doing”.

Mickey’s eyebrows raise a little, surprised by how deeply upset Ian is, when he had seemed so happy the night before. And confident in general. But there was much about running a kingdom that Mickey didn’t understand, and he realizes that. Kings were not allowed to be vulnerable.

He curls up close to Ian, kissing his forehead warmly before he shakes his head, “You’re not a fuckin failure. You’re young, and you’re figuring things out. And what are you talking about, death. Nobody’s dying Ian”.

Ian’s reddened eyes look over at him again and he sighs shakily, before explaining more fully the heavy conversation that had apparently taken place over the past two hours.

Mickey listens to his story silently, his stomach starting to sour a little as he realizes that he himself had played an unknowing part in this… Ian passed that law because of him. For him. And now Ian was scared, that was plain to see… but he only trusted Mickey to see that part of him.

A strong protective urge comes over him and he holds Ian tightly close, Ian’s red hair pressed against his jaw as he promises to him, “You’re not alone Ian. I’ll stand by you no matter what happens. I promise you”.  

“Okay. I need you” Ian admits quietly, face pressed into his chest, and in that moment, Mickey realizes there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama in the kingdom *flames*  
> But if you've read my work before you know it will probably be okay in the end ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently a busy bee! But I still love Gallavich more than ever, and this fic is not over <3

A few days go by with no verbal warning delivered through any messengers, and no apparent sign of military retaliation from Βόρεια πλευρά. Some kings would breathe a sigh of relief at the chance that this means peace once more. King Francis for one, would have gone right back to the barrel.

Ian is much cleverer than that though.

He somberly knows he cannot entirely hope that the tension mounting between King Everett and himself is over with after no sign of resolve, and he also knows that it could very well come to a cantankerous head sooner rather than later.

So even as physically comfortable as he is right now on this sunny and beautiful day, laid out a carved stone table laden with thick soft towels beneath him while Mickey massages at his shoulders with lavender oil lovingly and listens to his concerns, real worry gnaws at his mind for more reason than one.

The four regional warrior arenas are coming to a highly anticipated closing of their current season within a fortnight, and as the first selected finalist, Νότια πλευρά is the kingdom hosting the tournament. Normally this would be an honor, but with only a few more internal fights taking place before Ian’s champion is selected, he’s more than aware that Mickey is now in the running to place.  

Based on his performances during his next few skirmishes, Mickey could end up representing the kingdom.

More concerning though than the high stakes fight, for most of Ian’s oblivious advisors and family members, is who the opponent may be. He closes his eyes and sighs as he thinks back to his last meeting with his royal council, his stomach still churning a little at the memory.

 “…We can lightly hope that King Everett’s kingdom does not win in its next fight against the East, and if so, he can simply be invited as a guest to the tournament… perhaps with some good entertainment, and very good wine…we can convince him this whole issue has been a misunderstanding” one advisor suggested almost too hopefully, and while the rest of the table mumbled their half-hearted agreement that this was a faint possibility, Lip had to be the unfortunate voice of reason.

“There is a very good chance though that his fighters will place first against the East this week. They almost always do. And that would mean one of them is coming here to fight one of ours for the final tournament. He’s not going to be in a peacemaking mood if that’s the case, he will want to crush us, and we need to be prepared for that”.

“It’s not impossible though” Ian said, trying to keep himself from appearing as tired and anxious as he felt as he gestured desperately towards the previous speaker, “He would still be a guest here, and perhaps he would want to try and make peace after the games”.

“Very true, my lord. Several outcomes are still possible at this time” Ezio had said, confidently eyeing the rest of the table in an effort to encourage them to show more support for their king.

“So… it’s settled then? Invite him as an ‘honored’ guest either way, and then suck up to him if you have to. Get him to come to some sort of new agreement so he doesn’t wage war against us” Lip said, scoffing a little into his goblet as he drank some wine, “Sounds very possible”.

Ian’s older brother clearly didn’t think there was much of a chance for that alternative, but what else could be done?

With a nod of his head, Ian had silently prayed and agreed to the plan.

Now he groans, right as Mickey kneads into a tight knot in his shoulder with his knuckles.

“There” Mickey pants a little triumphantly as he pats at the spot, “Finally got the fucker. Could feel you tense there all week”.

“Probably got it from tossing and turning in my sleep so much” Ian grumbles quietly, though he’s relieved as he rubs at his shoulder and pulls himself up to a seated position on the table, beckoning Mickey to come closer so he can give him a kiss in thanks.

Standing in front of him, Mickey touches the side of his neck reassuringly, “Hey, it’s gonna be fine alright? Everything’s gonna be fine. And besides, I’ll be in your bed tonight, so you won’t have any fuckin room to be a spaz in bed”.

Ian finally laughs happily, a sound he hadn’t heard coming from his own mouth in more than a few days, and then he pauses, eyeing Mickey a little thoughtfully for a moment until Mickey starts to give him that confused _“the fuck you looking at”_ face he sometimes gets when Ian stares at him for too long.

“Is there any chance…you would come eat with me tonight?” the king asks.

Usually Ian couldn’t miss meals unnoticed, so he would always have extra food sent to Mickey while he waited in his room for him to return, but it never felt right, and he always felt sad thinking about Mickey eating there alone just waiting for him.

“Uh…as what? You gonna pretend I’m some lord’s son or something?” Mickey scoffs a little sarcastically.

“No” Ian says, rolling his eyes playfully before punching Mickey’s arm gently, “I want you there as you”.

Mickey gives him a wilting look, “And how the fuck is that supposed to work? Lip will probably choke when he sees us walk in together, and the rest of your family will probably have me sent to the dungeon for uh…fucking the king or whatever”.

Ian can only chuckle and smile at him reassuringly, confident that a private meal with his family is more than overdue.

He was long past tentative feelings for Mickey, and long past private declarations of love, they were _together_ now. Completely bonded, and more than that, he needed Mickey at his side for strength now more than ever.

His siblings would have to understand that.

-

“Thank you, Hera” Ian smiles, giving the quiet servant a polite little nod as she backs out of the room from delivering a small selection of delicate foods and drink for the siblings to enjoy. Belen as always was accompanying her, though now he often toddles alongside her, and Ian waves goodbye at him too.

It wasn’t unusual by any means for the siblings to share most of their meals or leisurely activities together, so after a few moments of normal chatter and laughter from his family members sitting around him while they reach for food from the platter, Ian clears his throat meaningfully.

The king tries to give a confident smile to them once he gets their attention.

“So, there is something important I want to share with you all…” he starts carefully, glancing towards a mildly suspicious looking Lip as he quickly tries to decide whether or not to let on that his older brother already knew about Mickey’s place in his life.

This is a _big_ next step however. Unheard of even, openly admitting to the decision he’s made to continue this relationship… so it feels more appropriate to address them all equally.

“I met someone a while ago. Well, more than a while. It’s been several months” he admits, watching similar expressions of definite surprise form over his siblings faces. Lip must just be surprised that he’s sharing this with them all openly now, but Ian can’t say he blames him.

“What on earth- _who_?” Fiona asks, raising her hands and looking around to see if anyone else is finding this hard to believe. He had been rather secretive. But for good reason…

“His name is Mikhailo. Mickey, actually. And because you will find out eventually, he fights in the arenas. He’s a fighter. And I don’t care what any of you think about that” he finishes, his blue-green eyes flashing warningly when he sees unsettled looks in theirs at his piece of information.

“Ian…sweetheart…he’s not… I mean, are you feeling okay?” Fiona manages to get out, shrinking back a little when he reddens in anger at the insinuation. The information seems to be too much for her, like several red warning flags have suddenly appeared.

“I’m _fine_ Fiona. I knew you guys would be like this and that’s why I didn’t say anything before. He’s not what you think, Fiona, some fuckin lowlife using me. I can see you think that, but he’s…he’s everything to me. And so are you guys… so I want you to know about him”.

It surprises Ian that his throat thickens at the end of his sentence, and only then does he fully realize how much he wanted this. How hard it was hiding his love for Mickey all of the time, even from the people he was closest to.

“It’s important for you to know him” he finally finishes.

“Ian…you do realize this can’t be. I mean, you can probably keep seeing him in secret for now, but how long can that go on for? Eventually, you will be pressured to take a queen. Are you gonna tell her about the fighter? Ask her to let him sleep in your bed with you?” Lip asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ian shakes his head right back at him, “I have always been honest with you all, and told you I would never take a queen. I have even less intention of doing so now than ever”.

“Well I guess we all thought eventually you would have to” Fiona says worriedly, and even his younger siblings seem to realize the impact of Ian’s choice now, as they start to look at each other like they are worried about what comes next.

“I know you did. I did too. But things can be different now. I know we have too much going on right now with Βόρεια πλευρά, and I didn’t bring this up to cause you any more concern. I’m not going to be announcing this choice of mine to the kingdom, but I am letting you my family know, and eventually I will be seeking council on what my options may be”.

A slight sigh of relief seems to pass through the Gallaghers, as they realize their brother the king will not be putting their lives through any major changes as of yet, but it does leave one big question, one that Fiona asks quite curiously.

“So why _did_ you tell us about him?”


	14. Chapter 14

“Fuck” Mickey mutters, staring at his rather clear reflection in the large polished metal slab resting in front of him while Ian’s handmaid Hera stands beside him, tugging gently on the dark blue silken sash resting over his hip so it will lay properly. She smiles through his mild cursing.

“You look very handsome” she reassures him, “Very proper”.

“I look fucking…fucking…” he waves his hands in a frustrated effort to get the words out, embarrassed, annoyed, but also rather intrigued by his new appearance all at the same time.

“Wealthy?” she offers, “Royal? The king feels it will perhaps be easier on his family if-“

“-If I’m not dressed in rags. I get it. It’s better if I look like one of them” Mickey supplies, squaring his shoulders in an effort to get more comfortable.

The soft and priceless material his new robes are made of feel strange resting over his pale skin, and he feels like an imposter while staring at his reflection, but at the same time…now he looks like a man that might be worthy of Ian, and he hopes Ian’s family will feel the same way when they see him.

Hera and himself are so focused on getting him to look perfect that they altogether miss the sound of King Ian entering the dressing room a short while later, and only notice he is there when his familiar voice says proudly from somewhere behind them, “You look…incredible”.

Mickey turns to look at Ian, and he could certainly say the same thing. In the past hour while they were apart Ian himself had been tended to by Ezio, and he was now dressed in a more formal robe with intricate royal insignias decorating the red sash that swings over his shoulder and rests around his hips.

He isn’t wearing his crown though, and when he comes to stand beside Mickey, it almost looks as if they could be from the same world.

“My family is waiting in our private dining hall now. They started on some wine. I’m…I’m very pleased you agreed to meet them Mickey. It means so much to me”.

“Well I’d do anything for you” Mickey mumbles back nervously, but when he feels Ian’s lips press against his freshly shaved and worried cheek, he feels a small light of confidence form in his stomach. He fights for his life as a living.

And he can do this.

Ian and Mickey walk side by side together down the stone hallways adequately alight with torches and candles, neither of them saying a word to each other until they stop in front of door with only two guards posted outside of it.

Ian waves them away so he can privately give Mickey a warm kiss before they go inside.

“It’ll be fine Mick. I promise”.

-

Mickey looks a little paler than usual as the two of them step inside the small private dining hall together, Ian closing the door tightly behind them to block any sound the guards may hear when they return before they begin to head across the stone flooring towards the dining table where his siblings are already sitting, delicately drinking wine and trying to appear as if they aren’t both fascinated and horrified by the surprise Ian dropped on them today.  

The surprise that will now be joining them at their royal private dining table.

Before taking his own seat at the head of the table as is of course expected, Ian gestures to the purposefully left empty one directly to his right, smiling at Mickey as he sits down beside him.  

All eyes are on them now.

And though he hides it well, Ian is pretty sure Mickey swallows hard before turning finally his head to boldly eye the rest of the royal siblings sitting at the table, none of whom apparently feel the need to avert their eyes. Instead, they stare at him openly, their curiosity seemingly taking over any reservations they initially had.

Ian clears his throat, “Brothers, sisters…this is Mickey. Mickey, my family”.

An awkward silence follows, and then Mickey glances over at Ian and back again before breaking the silence, “I understand that I’m not a welcome guest at your table. But I want thank you for having me anyways… I know its important to Ian”.

“That is not exactly…” Fiona starts, before her eyes dart towards Ian’s slowly clenching fist on the table and she politely corrects herself, “That is not true Mickey. Our brother is our king as much as he is yours, and we both respect and abide by the decisions he makes”.

_Even if we don’t always understand them_ , Ian is sure she wishes she could add. But she doesn’t.

Instead she does her best to give him a warm and friendly smile, with the rest of his siblings soon following suit, and Ian certainly can’t complain about that.

Mickey nods in response, and after another few minutes of rather loud silence in which they all drink Carl shocks the rest of the table by letting out an excited outburst he had been holding in this entire time.

“You’re an arena fighter, _right?_ That’s what Ian said! I’ve always wanted to go. Have you ever _killed someone?”_

Mouths drop before Mickey shrugs his answer uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how he’s supposed to answer such a question. “Only when I had to”.

“Carl, that’s not appropriate for the table” Fiona scolds while Lip reaches over to cuff him. Carl rubs the back of his head in annoyance, before gesturing towards Mickey again, “Well I just wanted to know. If I wasn’t a prince, I’d want to fight in the arenas too”.

“No you wouldn’t Carl” Ian says tersely, but luckily, before the conversation goes any further in decline, the heavy door to the room opens and in comes the small feast prepared for the occasion, featuring fresh greens and fruits, and slow roasted chickens dripping with a butter glaze.

The food is a more than welcome distraction, and with only Hera now present to serve, it’s a more intimate setting than the siblings are used to in the evenings, so they eat comfortably.

Mickey’s normally ravenous appetite seems subdued though, so Ian reaches over to rest his hand on his thigh from underneath the table, noticing with a smile how Mickey’s cheeks flush a little.

“So…you two met in the market?” Fiona finally says, delicately eating some of her salad while she tries to open a polite conversation again. Ian had already told them the basic details of his relationship with Mickey of course, but she’s repeating them for Mickey’s sake, acting as though they hadn’t all questioned Ian intensely before agreeing to this.

“Yeah. Ian, I mean, his Grace saw me from across the street. He sent Ezio to ask me to visit that evening”.

“Mick, you don’t have to call me that. I’m just Ian” Ian says softly, before nodding towards his siblings, “I did. He’s been on my mind ever since. And in my heart”.

“Oh boy” Lip says from his left, and though Ian raises a red eyebrow sharply towards him, he sees Lip is only teasing, and he lets himself smile back at his brother.

“Do you feel the same way about Ian?” Debbie asks. The first thing she’s said so far, Mickey looks over at her, seems to notice how much she looks like Ian, and relaxes a little.

“Yeah he’s…he’s under my skin”.

Ian feels a warm kind of flood in his chest, pure happiness, and he can’t help but break into a full blushing smile before he just puts up his hands a little in defeat, “I am truly happy right now. I know it might take time for everyone to get used to this situation, and I am sorry that I kept it a secret for so long, but now more than ever we need to be strong, and loyal to one another. Familial strength is what has kept the crown in the Gallagher name for so long, and I trust you all with my life and my choice”.

“Hear, hear” murmurs Lip, and with that, all the siblings and Micky raise their glasses to the toast, and drink with their King.

Eventually, with the help of hearty red wine and good food, a real laugh or two has even been shared across the table, and it eventually feels as though there is not _so_ much distance between Ian’s lover and his family anymore.

 It’s only when mention of the upcoming tournament arises that both men soberly remember the reality of their situation. Seeing the fallen looks on their faces, Lip asks gently, “Is it alright if I ask, how did you end up fighting in the arenas Mickey? Are you an orphan? Or was it something else?”

He didn’t mean to be rude, and certainly there is no sarcasm or cruelty towards Mickey present at the table, but Mickey quickly gets very visibly tense at the change in conversation, so Ian protectively clears his throat, addressing his siblings altogether. It’s been more than enough for one day.

“Well I think we’ve had enough to eat and drink, so Mickey and I are going to retire to my chambers for the evening now. I hope you all sleep well. Thank you for being a part of this meal tonight”.

The topic is dropped, and goodnights are passed around the table.

-

Ian slips his hand into Mickey’s on the way back to his chambers as the hallway torches begin to die down for the night, the two of them taking their time to get there and talking gently about the evening, even though Mickey’s mind is somewhere else the entire time.

He wishes he could tell Ian more about himself. He wishes he could tell anyone, because then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But he’s built up such a fierce stone wall inside himself that it took everything he had not to leap across the table and knock Prince Philip out just for asking about his history.

He still feels tense and pinched inside even when him and Ian finally undress and climb into bed together, his heart hurting deep inside his chest even as Ian kisses his way down it, squeezing his eyes shut to keep any tears from leaking out, until Ian takes his mind away from all its concerns and ghosts of the past, bringing him right into the moment with him with his love.

“Oh Mickey…you taste so good. So good Mickey” Ian says, biting his bottom lip to relish the lingering taste when he finally comes up to position himself above Mickey, and slowly sink himself inside of him. Laying beneath Ian as he starts out with gentle thrusts, Mickey arches his back and cries out loudly when Ian fully buries himself hard, throbbing deep inside of him while he kisses Mickey’s wet lips over and over, sweating against him, letting Mickey hold onto his arms as tightly as he wants to to ground himself while they fuck each other into a state of bliss where nothing else exists in the moment, just the two of them.

Completely bared and vulnerable to his king, the cracks in the protective wall Ian had caused to form over time begin to grow, and Mickey feels the redhead may have just found a way through it.

-

The handsome fighter sleepily joins Ian to clean up a bit after their second time together in the rumpled silken bedsheets during the night, washing off his pale thighs while Ian joins him in the water to lovingly clean his own mess from his skin.

When the two men are dry again Ian asks sweetly, “Will you come join me in bed again?” and Mickey can’t help but tease him a bit before he yawns and asks, “Again?”

“Hah” Ian laughs, his own eyes crinkling in tired amusement, “I meant to sleep. I want you back in my arms. I never have better rests than when you sleep in my bed”. “Neither do I” Mickey admits, before adding, “You know…I wasn’t really used to all this before you. Being… touched. Held. I mean, fighters, we don’t…“

He flushes a little, turning his head away in embarrassment as he trails off, but Ian’s face softens into a look of acceptance, and he reaches out to touch Mickey’s warm face, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I can see pain in your eyes, and it hurts my heart”.

Mickey nods slowly, casting his eyes down. The subject of his life, his position in the kingdom, may very well always bring him shame. But in the strangest turn of fate, the man with the highest place in the kingdom, made him feel like there was nothing to be ashamed of at all.

He can see the sincerity in Ian’s eyes. He wants to understand. And Mickey wants to be brave enough to open up to him. He takes a deep breath.

“Before I met you…the most physical contact I ever really got was from fighting. And yeah, sometime I fucked around, but its not like this. Not like you and me. It’s quick and its…you don’t feel good about it after”.

“I can understand that” Ian says, before patiently waiting for more.

Mickey forces himself to untense his muscles and continues. “Nobody gives a shit about an arena fighter. The peak of our life is our death, and that’s always seemed fucked up to me. People celebrate for you when you win, but they would just as soon stamp their feet and cheer if you were killed for their entertainment. That’s been my entire fucking life Ian and I’m…I’m so goddamn tired of it”.

To his own brutal shock, his voice cracks and breaks at his admission, and he feels a burn in his eyes, but in moments, he’s wrapped up in Ian’s arms, lips pressed to his head. Not saying anything. Not asking for anything. Just wordlessly telling him, that he cares. More than he could ever know.

They stay like that for a long time, holding each other, Mickey swallowing hard to chase away tears while Ian stays in place, until he finally asks quietly, “Do you not have any family, Mickey?”

Mickey sniffs and thinks for a moment before he answers, “I don’t know. I don’t remember much from before I was taken in. I was just a kid”.

“What do you mean?” Ian asks, drawing away to look at him.

“I’ve been owned by the arena circuit since I was four. I know I had…brothers. Two, Ignatius and Joseph. And I had a father. But mostly its blurry. I just know that one day I was outside fighting with my brothers, and then when I went off to nick something from the market later that day, some guy approached me. He told me he had bad news, that there was a fire, and that I had to go live with him now, because I had no where else to stay”.

“I don’t understand. Your family…they died in the fire?”

“Yea. He wouldn’t let me go back though. He said there was no use, since everything was burnt to hell and gone anyways. I cried and cried until he eventually beat me for it, and then he took me back to be a stable boy in the arenas until I was old enough to train”.

“My God Mickey” Ian says, clearly horrified, and although Mickey has no way of knowing it, he feels eaten alive by guilt. His whole life he had been pampered and catered to, and Mickey had grown up alone and unloved, an orphan.

“S’okay. I don’t remember much anymore about my life before, like I said, its just kind of a blur. It’s just unbelievable to me that I’m here now, with you, and you-“

“Mickey” Ian says, his own voice now uneven. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you stepped foot into my chambers, so many months ago now. I love you more than anything in this entire kingdom, and you…you will never be alone again. I swear to you Mickey. I love you”.

His outburst of love and emotion catches Mickey off guard, because the whole conversation had began simply as he struggled to explain why the physical contact meant so much to him with Ian, and why he was so guarded, but his heart started to beat faster with each word Ian spoke and now…now its like his mind is finally still.

This is what peace feels like. This is what… “I love you too Ian” he answers, pressing his forehead against Ian’s and stroking his jaw and his cheek while Ian does the same. This is peace.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm truly sorry its been so long, I work very full time now and with everything else I have to do I have next to no creative energy in my limited free time. That being said, I'm sorry if my writing isn't what it used to be but I would still like to continue this fic!  
> Thanks xo

Mikhailo was a man of two worlds now. One, he had known almost his entire life. It was of second nature to him, brash and often filthy, harsh and mostly solitary.

And his life at the arena had truly not changed in any sense since meeting Ian, he still did the same grunt work as always around the arena property when he wasn’t performing by beating another man into a pulp in front of a roaring crowd or having the same done to himself. Normal is as normal does.

But the other world he was now part of, more truly a part of…this other world was like stepping into the literal garden of Eden, he thought, trailing his fingers curiously over some fragrant white blossoms spilling into the pathway of the royal gardens he was walking through.

Under Ian’s wishes (though not against his own) he did spend a lot of his time when he was not working at the arena within castle grounds, welcomed to partake in whatever he wished while he waited. Waited for his king of course.

Ian was unsurprisingly often tremendously busy, spending entire long days locked up in meetings with his council, answering to calls within the city, and hearing the concerns of his citizens within the great hall. Mickey did not take part in any of those tasks. Not that he minded in any sense. Ian never seemed too sorry to have a day away from those duties, and he was overjoyed to come across Mickey in the grounds when he was free.

There was a sense though, Mickey thought, while glancing back towards the castle, of himself still being out of place just lounging about the castle. He did not consort with any one other than Ian really, although his lover’s brother Prince Phillip sometimes acknowledged him when they crossed paths. Carl Gallagher certainly wished to follow Mickey around and ask questions, or request for him to demonstrate a fighting move or two, but Mickey promptly made himself scarce whenever the young prince was around.

And for any of the other castle residents and workers, he had to keep his identity fairly unknown. He was a guest, and that was all the staff were told.

*

The king is becoming visibly impatient by the end of today’s meeting with his financial advisor, mostly listening and nodding along dully before signing various parchments while the day slips by. When he escapes out of his library to finally pursue the company of one particular resident of the castle, he feels the same almost buzzing vibration of excitement to see him again.

He is disappointed to find his private chambers empty, the room already long cleaned by Hera of any sign of him having a guest. Mickey must have been gone a few hours, he muses, and if he thought there was any chance of his lover telling Ezio where he may have gone before he wandered off he would have summoned his loyal servant. Knowing Mickey however…

Ian hums to himself as he heads out to the vibrant castle grounds after a brief peek in the kitchens, taking a shiny apple with him to push away at his appetite and give himself something to do as he searches.

Passing by some ornately sculpted bushes and flowering trees decorating the path cutting through his enormous grounds, he hears a small laugh and then receives a gentle shove from behind, turning to smile at his younger sister Debbie as she pops out from behind him, flowers pushed through her red braid.

“He was here earlier” she informs him with a smile, before slipping back into her hiding place when they both hear Carl yell from a distance. Ian rolls his eyes playfully before continuing his walk, fairly certain now of where Mickey must have gone.

Carl passes him on the way, “Seen Debbie?” he hollers over at his brother, barely slowing as he jogs past him in pursuit of their red-haired sister. Ian spent many afternoons growing up playing the same game with Fiona and Lip.

“Nope” Ian answers, shrugging innocently. Soon enough, he reaches the stables, quiet inside save for the gentle sounds of inquisitive horses and the crunching of hay between their soft lips. And there he finds exactly what he was looking for.

“That’s a mean stallion” he muses, tipping his head towards the gigantic horse Mickey is watching. “They breed him against good mares for solid war horses, but that’s about all he’s good for”.

“He’s just scared” Mickey says, trying again to reach out the horse. Its dark nostrils flare in response, Mickey frowning before he turns to grab the half-eaten apple from Ian’s hand. He holds it still for a long moment over the stall bars before its snatched away from his hand, the horse turning away from him to eat it haughtily.

Mickey brushes off his sticky hands and turns fully towards his king with a little smile, reaching out to touch his arm, “How did it go today?”

“Finances are my least favorite subject in general Mickey. I’d rather ask, how come you are ending up out here most days now?”

“I dunno” Mickey shrugs, “More comfortable with animals I guess. I grew up in a stable too, so the smell of shit isn’t all that offensive to me”.

“Fair enough” Ian answers, giving him a kiss before he starts to head back for the stable doors, beckoning him along, “We should be on our way to the dining hall now, before anyone starts to wonder where I am”.

Mickey grins as he joins the redhead, “Yeah, what on earth would you tell them? Especially Ezio”.

“Oh, a line or two about looking for the most handsome man in the castle. Something of that nature, I’m sure”.

Both men laugh as they imagine the look that would be on the advisor’s face, now off to share a meal in the same hall, but at a different table.

_Some weeks later…_

_~Ezio’s Perspective~_

“ _Ezio!_ Ezio…”

Ezio turns in the corridor to see the maiden Hera appear with a very anxious expression written over her face, her voice lowering into a quiet hush as she approaches him, wringing her small hands together.

“Whatever is wrong?” he asks seriously, but she hesitates, and only when he continues to stare at her does she eventually whisper what has upset her.

 “The king. There is something wrong with him on this morning. I fear he is ill. He did not stir when I arrived, simply moaned and hid, and his face was pale and ashen. He asked for Mickey, twice, and that was all he said”.

“Oh Hera…” Ezio squeezes her arm gently to ground her, “Do not worry. You did the proper thing, coming to me. I will fetch the fighter, and you must go to the apothecary immediately and ask them for the king’s potion. Do you understand? Bring it to him and make him drink it.”

“Yes, yes. Has this happened before? Is he ill?”

Ezio hesitates, “It is an infliction of the mind, Hera. He will be fine with his antidote, but with the trade issues that arose last week…we are running out of the active ingredient for his normal dose. As soon as he is well, we need to move up our trip to the East”.

Not wanting to waste any more time, the thin woman nods before wisely turning to hurry off the apothecary without any further questions. Hera had been the servant in attendance for more than one of the royal council’s recent meetings, and she understood to what he was referring regarding travel. King Ian himself had known this could happen.

The first trade stall had finally happened with Βόρεια πλευρά, and there was no doubt in the council’s minds that this was intentional move, depriving the kingdom of necessary trades before a next strike could be made. King Everett was not stupid enough to confirm any such act was intentional, rather, his traders simply send word that there was a shortage this month on the goods needed for trade, but there had never been a shortage before.

More importantly, and much more secretly, one of the most vital items to be received in the scheduled trade was a special flower, dried and ground, that only grew in the northernmost region of the country. Only this flower had the ability to make King Ian well. If trade was barred, for the sake of the throne, war would come. And they needed to be prepared for that immediately. Securing their alliance with East could not come soon enough.

Ezio must find the fighter.

-

Mickey is still picking himself back up on his feet and off of his sweating and broken opponent when Obelius approaches him, his sneer-like grin wider than ever as he claps his fighter hard on the back, yelling over the sound of the morning crowd.

This was it. The last fight. The one that decided who would go into the tournament to represent the king. To represent Ian. And Mickey won.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, my rogue fighter! A force to be reckoned with you are! You will not be scheduled for any more fights until the tournament, I just want you training. I don’t think I need to tell you _, Mikhailo_ , that you have no option but to win”.

The greasy words slide from his master’s tongue as he swiftly leads Mickey out of the arena, his compliments a mere prelude to his threat, and Mickey knows he is serious. He sets his jaw and nods, grateful when Obelius lets go of him to go say farewell to a visiting duke.

He’s heading back down the corridor towards his room before anyone else can bother him when he hears a whisper, and he whips his head around the seemingly empty hallway to see Ezio step out from a doorway, beckoning him urgently.

“Fighter!”

Mickey frowns, approaching him in confusion and some annoyance until he sees the look on Ezio’s face.

“You need to come with me. Now” he says, turning to leave through a low set of stairs that lead to an exit.

“What- what the fuck is going on?” Mickey hisses. He barely had time to process the fact he would be entering the tournament this year, and now this?

“I cannot say here. It’s not safe. You need to come with me” Ezio repeats, and Mickey’s just about to argue when Ezio turns with flashing eyes and says, “He needs you”.

Mickey doesn’t need to ask who.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love on the last chapter, I'm so glad to see familiar names still here! <3

 “I don’t…how come he never fucking told me about this?” Mickey yells as soon as they have adequate privacy on the way back to castle. They push their horses on faster though, and Ezio practically has to shout to be heard over the sound of thundering hooves in return, “How would he?”

Mickey swallows hard. That hurt, but at the same time he understood. Most people who were sick in the mind ended up locked in dungeons. Not sitting on thrones.

It was hard to even imagine his Ian being sick in that way. He had never noticed anything to suggest he was. But if what Ezio said was true, and Ian could be well as long as he had access to an antidote, then getting Ian that medicine was more important than ever, and there was no time to waste getting more supplies in case he needed another dose. 

When they arrive at the castle they promptly abandon their horses at the gate to be led away by the footmen to the stables, and together they take the most private entryway to the castle through to Ian’s bedchambers, Mickey’s heart pounding unusually fast the entire time.

As soon as they arrive at the chamber doors one opens, and a teary-eyed Hera is standing there, her young toddler sitting on the floor and playing while she looks absolutely helpless with a small but full vial in her hand.

“I told you to make him take it!” Ezio snaps, snatching the vial from her.

“He won’t!” she almost wails in response, “He got angry with me, and it almost spilled when he pushed it away”.

Mickey stands there, open mouthed, his own eyes stinging as he looks over at Ian in his bed, his face pale and different than he had ever seen it before, his eyes shut tightly while he grimaces and shakes his head when Ezio comes over to speak to him quietly.

“I don’t… I… Mickey!” Ian growls, his eyes flashing open to stare at Ezio in annoyance, “I need Mickey”.

“I’m here Ian” Mickey rushes over to his side, Ezio wisely stepping away so Mickey can sit and touch Ian’s face. His temperature is normal, but he looks so strange, and in his eyes… it just appears that normal Ian he knows isn’t there.

“Make them leave me alone. I want to be alone” Ian mumbles, but he still reaches out, and Mickey kisses his forehead, gathering him close as he shakes his head vehemently.

“No Ian. You need to take that. You know that. I know you do”.

“I don’t want it” Ian answers firmly.

“You need to take it” Mickey argues back, before he turns to look at Ezio accusingly and whispers, “He doesn’t want it. You said it makes him better, so why doesn’t he want it?”

Ezio shakes his head somberly, “It does, but for the first few hours it causes him even more emotional turmoil. Usually his brother comes and sits with him, but he is away this morning, and we haven’t been able to reach him”.

“Well I’m here” Mickey snaps, grabbing the vial and holding it out for Ian, “Please. Take it. ‘M not gonna leave. I’ll hold you til its over. I promise”.

Ian looks up at him through weakened eyes, staring at him until he seems to finally give up and he nods, taking the vial and downing it with a shudder before he shrinks into his bedsheets like he’s suddenly very cold.

“Make them go away” he whispers.

-

Everything in Ian’s entire body feels like giving up. His mind is in agony, and even though Mickey gets into his bed and holds him close, telling him he loves him, he stills feels the waves of inner turmoil that crash over him for hours, feeling like he’s caught in a turbulent storm.

It feels like forever.

Its like being in a nightmare and he just wants it to end.

-

When Ian finally calms and falls into a restful sleep, Mickey lets himself address his own panic over seeing Ian like this. He bites his bottom lip to keep from tearing up, but fuck he was shaken. Ezio kept assuring him it was normal earlier, that this happened every time, and that Ian would be fine, but how could he believe that?

How could he believe Ian would be okay when he was saying those strange things, his eyes looking so haunted? Getting Ian his medicine was now the most important thing to him.

Mickey holds his king tight while he sleeps even though his muscles start to ache from not moving, and its very late in the evening when Ian finally wakes, groggy and seeming confused until Mickey tries to smile at him, even though his eyes are full.

“Mickey...I’m sorry. I never wanted you to see me like that” Ian whispers, his eyes turning down in shame as the memory crashes over him of yesterday.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. I needed to know Ian” Mickey answers firmly, “I fucking love you, and it doesn’t change a thing. And you need to let me be there for you”.

“I am. I will” Ian agrees tiredly, “I feel better now. Not great…but better. That potion they make is the only thing that does it. Sometimes I don’t need it for months…but I guess the stress of everything…”

Mickey nods, leaning down to give Ian a quick kiss on the lips to reassure him that he didn’t need to explain. Now was not the time to tell Ian about his place in the tournament, so he instead just holds Ian while the king lays there quietly, his emotions still settling back into place.

When morning comes, Ezio comes to speak with him in private.

-

Mickey brushes his knuckles beneath his narrow nose and mutters a low curse beneath his breath when Baron finally enters the arena stables to do his share of the stall cleanings, annoyed at what he needs to do but knowing he has no choice due to his current circumstances.

Ezio and him had spoken in private, and both strongly agreed that it would be for the best if Mickey travelled with the king and his party as soon as possible to meet with their kingdom’s ally, King Lyron of Ανατολική πλευρά, to reaffirm their alliance before war was likely to break out with the North. It was the best chance Νότια πλευρά had of victory, even Mickey knew that.

“Baron” he calls out casually, while giving a gentle tug on the mare’s reigns he had been brushing to get her to trot over him.

The other fighter looks up and over at him, nodding his half-assed acknowledgement as he bends to grab a shovel. He had been much less interested in conversing with Mickey ever since he realized the sexual encounters they used to have were an occurrence of the past.

“Look I…I need to ask you for a favor” Mickey says, scratching his neck when Baron looks up at him curiously, “It’s…I need you to cover my duties for the rest of the week. You know my schedule, its nothing you haven’t done before”.

Baron scoffs while he stabs his shovel into a pile of horse dung, leveling it before he turns to dump it in the reeking wagon between them. “You’re gonna need to do more than that, Mikhailo”.

“Alright. I can pay you. But you need to keep your fucking mouth shut. Just do my work for the rest of the week and make up an excuse if anyone notices the schedule change”.

Baron stops shoveling, turning to look at Mickey doubtfully until he hears the resounding clink of coins when Mickey pulls a small leather pouch out of his pocket, the gold Ezio had supplied him with.

“Well well Mikhailo, you have yourself a deal. I don’t suppose you’d tell a friend why you’re disappearing for a week when you should be training?” Baron grins.

“No” Mickey mutters, tossing the bag of coins for Baron to catch against his chest. He leaves it at that, satisfied the other fighter will keep up his end of the deal. For the most part, they didn’t make life harder for each other unless they were in the arena, and with coin to back it up, Baron had no reason to cross him and risk receiving a serious beat down in return.

Obelius…well, he should be none the wiser as long as Mickey’s work is being done. He might try and track him down to see him training for the big show, but if Mickey has any luck the lazy bastard will give up easily.

-

The proud red Gallagher banner flaps steadily in the wind as the carriage rolls down the path away from the castle, Ian waving one last time to his siblings that are staying behind, all of them but Lip, who is part of the small party travelling discreetly to their ally’s kingdom.

Though the traveling party is clearly a royal one with the banners and uniforms, there is no clear indication who is travelling, a move wisely decided upon amongst the council, as they did not want word to escape that the king and some of his key advisors were away and travelling, leaving the castle or the kingdom more open to attack.

A simpler carriage in place of his Grace’s normal one was used, and the young king himself travelled in the middle of five identical carriages total, with a string of royal soldiers mounted on horses in front and behind the small procession.

Ian was sitting comfortably across from Mickey, who had donned clothing more common to the rest of the royal party for the purpose of the trip, and he smiles at his handsome fighter when he catches his eye, grateful to have him there.

“How long does it take to get there?” Mickey asks, glancing from Ian to Lip, who are sitting beside each other. Lip doesn’t glance up from his book, but Ezio answers before Ian has a chance to, knowing Mickey is concerned about not being away for longer than is necessary.

“Two days travel each way, Sir Mikhailo”.

“Told you not to call me that” Mickey mumbles, raising an eyebrow towards Lip when Ian’s brother smirks.

“The terrain is fairly even on the way there, save for a single low valley nearby” Ian continues, “But the weather is fair, and I have to admit, I’m looking forward to sleeping outside again. Especially when the air is so nice and crisp”.

“Sounds nice” Mickey admits, although he is soon to learn that his old way of sleeping outside with nothing but grass or earth beneath his head was very different from the royal way. Ian’s soldiers were quick to set up a camp before darkness fell after their first long day of travel, and Ian and Mickey now had their own private airy tent, with thick white fabric draped over tall spikes driven into the ground, the inside of it filled with expensive satin and silk pillows, and a large dark fur along with sheets for warmth in the cooler night air. 

Lanterns cast a soft white glow inside the tent as Ian reaches over to touch Mickey’s cheek, the two of them lying and facing each other quietly before sleep while the rest of the camp soldiers are a little more boisterous just outside.

“How do you feel?” Mickey asks, and Ian smiles in response, shrugging offhandedly, “I always feel a little sore after a day being cooped up sitting in a carriage, but I don’t mind it so much now that I’m with you”.

“No that’s…not what I meant”.

“Oh” Ian’s handsome face falls just slightly, “I’m feeling fine. I promised to tell you if I wasn’t, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Can’t help but worry about you though” Mickey answers, leaning forward to brush his lips against Ian’s. They feel so warm and soft, and something about the touch of them makes him almost catch his breath, like he caught a spark from his lover. That spark that says, _I’m still here. I’m still me._

“You wanna take care of me?” Ian breathes against his mouth, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before he closes them and kisses Mickey harder.

“Always” the fighter murmurs back, surprised in the least when the king grabs him and rolls to pull Mickey’s body on top of his own, kissing him hard while they both struggle to undress without coming apart.

They don’t speak any more coherent words to each other after that, Ian’s long and skilled fingers soon finding their way down through Mickey’s legs to gently stretch him out so his fighter can start to sink down onto him, the latter letting out a small hiss, the former a low moan as they come together as quietly but as quickly as possible.

With such a handsome man so clearly in love with him, just riding him ruthlessly the way he is right now, making Ian’s heart pound and his lips open for more every time Mickey offers his tongue, there’s no doubt in the king’s mind his strongest and most important ally is right here in the tent with him.

Nothing gives him strength, and peace, and safety like Mickey does.

Nothing makes the king feel like everything is going to be alright more.


	17. Chapter 17

 

Vibrant trumpets and horns sound out to welcome the small royal procession of King Gallagher and his travelling party as they finally reach the front gates of Ανατολική, their ally King Lyron’s kingdom of the East, after two constant days of travel.

To Mickey’s fresh perspective, the cobbled streets look similar to those of their own back in Νότια πλευρά, with the working-class busy bustling through them on a schedule, yet still curious and friendly enough towards the arrival of King Gallagher, a few of them straining to catch a peek inside the carriages. Not used to such attention, Mickey finds his cheeks getting warmer and looks away, fixating instead the skillfully made leather shoes on his feet. Those were taking some getting used to as well.

King Ian himself had visited this kingdom before in the past, and found it much more tasteful and home-like than his visits to the other two kingdoms in the region, the reminder of that clear as his procession is led through the streets to the castle. This was a king he could see eye to eye with. And he needed his help.

He starts to feel a little anxious thinking about this as the jaunty carriages come to a stop in front of the castle, King Lyron’s soldiers and performers continuing the small welcoming ceremony as he steps out of the carriage. A gentle brush of a hand against the small of his back reminds him though, he’s not alone. Mickey is staying close behind, just after Ezio and Ian’s military commander.

Ian pauses to accept the formal greeting bows from their hosts, smiling and exchanging pleasantries along the way with the various advisors sent out to fetch for him, but he takes a deep breath before entering the actual hall where King Lyron and his wife Queen Antheia are waiting, wearing their most royal attire, both smiling as he enters and customarily takes a knee in their presence.

“Welcome my friend” King Lyron says, coming down to extend a hand. Ian takes it, the two men nodding with a grin of familiarity as they come face to face. It had been a long time. But it seemed so far, that King Lyron was pleased to see him.

-

Mickey is starting to wonder how any royal people ever get anything done. The sheer amount of pleasantries and stories, never-ending glasses of wine and lengthy tours of the castle grounds never seem to end, stretching on for hours. And even at dinner, judging by the laughs and smiles coming from the two kings seated quite far away at the same table, Mickey wouldn’t guess any business has even been discussed yet.

Later on in the evening, Ezio approaches him subtly and pulls him slightly away from the crowd still filling the hall, now consuming more alcohol and enjoying various forms of entertainment, from fire eaters to exotic looking dancers.

“You look like you’ve eaten a lemon” he says disapprovingly.

“What the hell is that?” the fighter scoffs back.

“Quit staring at him like that before someone else notices. Jealousy is very unbecoming on you”.

Mickey starts, completely caught off guard by the observation. Was he jealous? Or just annoyed at having to wait? King Lyron was not an unattractive man… but his wife was also seated right there, and the two seemed quite close. While he’s considering this, Ian finally manages to catch his eye for the briefest moment, giving him a nervous smile before he turns back to his conversation.

“I love him” Mickey finds himself muttering, getting a curt nod back from Ezio.

“He’ll be fine. He asked me to pass along a message, you’ll have to stay in your own room tonight”.

“Fine. Are we leaving tomorrow or what though? I have to get back”.

“That is the plan. After breakfast, his Grace will request to speak openly about our current situation, and ask for King Lyron’s assistance should it be needed. Then we can depart, before anyone notices the king is gone”.

Mickey nods, accepting a goblet from a maiden as she approaches to offer him one, her sheer blue dress draped with thin gold jewelry, her eyes sparkling with a smoky blue paint above her lids.

“I’ve been asked to show you to your room” she smiles, her voice smooth like honey. Glancing about, Mickey sees he’s not the only member of Ian’s party being approached by an attractive woman with a glass and invitation.

“Uh…alright” Mickey answers, trying and failing to get one final glance from Ian before he leaves. Knowing his king though, maybe it’s a good thing. He did have a little jealous side himself after all.

Mickey trails after the woman as she glides down the hallway, her body swaying in just a way he’s sure if he felt the way about women that most men do, he’d be mesmerized. She’s all hips and ass. But, he just takes another gulp of the mulled wine from his goblet and when she brings him to his room, he gives her a crooked smile and then closes the door before she can step inside with him.

-

Waking up in a strange bed without Mickey the next morning makes Ian feel more vulnerable than ever. He doesn’t even realize he’s been stuck chewing nervously on his lip without actually getting up until he hears a quick knock at his door, jolting him out of his reverie.

“Come in” he garbles, immediately clearing his throat.

“Hey”.

Ian’s tense shoulders fall instantly, his arms reaching out automatically when he sees Mickey come in and shut the door behind himself, his fighter coming to embrace him with a warm morning kiss, ignoring the sour taste of his mouth and reaching around to grip his messy red hair affectionately.

“Missed you last night” Mickey says, coming away with a grin. He’s fully dressed, reminding Ian it’s time to get going.

“You have no fucking idea” Ian answers, getting up to get dressed himself. The crown is an important part of his ensemble for the day, and he notices how Mickey comfortably reaches out to straighten it for him. Before, the scrappy arena fighter would have never dared touch it.

“I’m here for you” Mickey reminds him, stepping towards the door so he can leave first, “It’s gonna be fine”.

His clear confidence in that makes Ian smile, and he gives his lover the smallest wave before he leaves. A few minutes later, he leaves himself, ready to make an entrance at the breakfast hall.

-

Breakfast at King Lyron’s table is warm and pleasant, a much smaller group than the night before with only Ian’s closest guests (Ezio, Lip, Mickey, a secondary advisor, and his military commander) and King Lyron’s own likewise.

But Ian waits until the meal is almost finished, takes a brief glance in Mickey’s direction for encouragement, and then clears his throat.

“King Lyron, my Queen, your hospitality is impeccable. And I thank you, for myself and all of my guests, for your welcome. But unfortunately, as you know from my letter arranging this visit, there is a reason for my being here on short notice”.

King Lyron puts down his golden goblet in order to give more of his attention directly to Ian. “Yes of course” he murmurs, “And I have a feeling I know the reason for your visit as well, as faint word has begun to travel through sharp ears of trouble brewing in the South”.

Ian nods back most seriously in confirmation, “I’m afraid the word is true. It is unknown at this point how soon or if things may escalate, but I want to take no chances in being prepared”.

“A wise choice.  I have myself never engaged in any agreements with the Northern king. We find him…” King Lyron looks to his wife, who nods, “Snakelike”.

“The relationship has been strained with him since my father died. It only existed because of his own interest in working with the North, but I see now that I myself have much less in common with its current ruler, and much more at stake”.

“Yes of course” Lyron nods, now signaling for his goblet and Ian’s to be filled again, “And I want you to know, you have my kingdom’s support. If you are in need of aid, you must only let us know”.

King Ian feels a smile break over his dry lips, relief flooding through him as he nods his head gratefully, “I cannot express my gratitude. While I regret the circumstances of this visit, I hope for more in the future, and to have more time to enjoy your beautiful lands as well. To Ανατολική”.

“To Ανατολική!!” the tables replies, the king himself landing a proud fist on the table while Ian’s party collectively lets out an inner sigh of relief.

Maybe they could stop this before it started.

-

By the time Ian’s party is ready to depart, he can’t help but notice that Mickey seems, unlike the rest of his party, still tense. And maybe Ezio is tense too... But it’s hard to tell with him, the man rarely lets down his formal mannerisms.

“Is something wrong?” Ian finally reaches over to ask, squeezing Mickey’s hand after he complains for the third time about brief stops the carriages have made to navigate some difficult terrain.

Before Mickey can even answer, and he does hesitate, Ian senses Ezio tense from across the carriage as well.

He vaguely flashes back to the previous evening, seeing Mickey and Ezio talking before one of Lyron’s dancers led Mickey away from the hall.

“You didn’t” he frowns.

“Didn’t what?” Mickey frowns back.

“The…skank from last night” Ian blusters, glaring at Lip when his brother laughs from beside him. Idiot. He’d seen his brother leave with two of them.

“Of course I fucking didn’t”.

“Then what is it?”

“I…don’t be upset, okay? Well fuck, I know you’re gonna be upset, because I didn’t tell you earlier, but you needed to be focused for this” Mickey says calmly, and the way Ezio nods infuriates Ian. He clearly knows what’s going on too. And didn’t tell him.

But before he has a chance to open his mouth, his beloved Mickey keeps going.

“I won the tournament placement. I’m representing you, and Νότια πλευρά, in the tournament this month” Mickey says, and he says it so calmly, its like he isn’t remembering everything that makes this terrible.

The stakes. Who he’s fighting again. How likely the fight is to be to the death.


	18. Chapter 18

“Can you tell him to calm the fuck down? Calm down!” Mickey yells after his red-headed and red-faced lover as he disappears angrily into his chambers, the fighter and the king’s closest and most trusted advisor not far behind.

You would think after almost two entire days being shacked up inside the same carriage Ian would have had to have calmed down by the time they reached the castle. But Ian being Ian…

He throws his hands up in exasperation, tired and frustrated from holding in his tirade until he had privacy to let it all out. “Just when I think everything might be okay, _this_ happens! And of all the foolish things-“

Ezio interrupts his king in the most respectful way possible, in a way only Ezio could. “Your Grace, perhaps we are looking in this in the wrong light. Sir Mikhailo knows the stake you have in this tournament, and-“

“I don’t want him being stabbed to death over some goddamned game!” Ian yells, punching at a satin pillow lying innocently on his bed while the two men opposite him try to reason with him.

 The king lowers his head defiantly and practically hisses when Ezio tries to approach him, in fact… a hiss is most definitely heard.

Mickey goes absolutely still, “Shut up. Both of you _shut up_!”

“W-what?” Ian asks, looking up slowly. As comfortable as the two of them were with each other, it was still unlike Mickey to be so downright disrespectful of him, especially in front of another.

“Don’t move” Mickey mutters, his hand slowly going down to the dagger strapped to his thigh. Ian glances from his lover’s intense stare at something behind him, to his advisor, and notices how pale the latter is suddenly going.

“What is it?” Ian asks, trying to turn his head to see what’s caught their attention. In a flash, Mickey knocks him solidly to the ground, away from the dark shape that lunges out from its hiding place among the satin pillows and sheets that had been so carefully arranged to hide it.

Before Ian can even comprehend what is happening, feathers burst upwards as Mickey stabs the serpent down against the bed, its angry dripping fangs missing his wrist by mere centimetres.

“Oh my God” Ezio whispers in horror as Ian scrambles to his feet and pulls Mickey away from the terrifying corpse.

He had heard stories of serpents who could still strike after being beheaded, and together the three men back away from the snake until they are certain it is no longer moving.

“How did it even get in here?” Ian asks, disgusted. The castle cats certainly weren’t doing their job.

“Ian someone tried to have you killed” Mickey mutters, his tone and face solemn as he continues to stare, Ian almost not believing him until he can see Ezio has reached the same conclusion. “This viper is not common to our region your Grace. But it is extremely aggressive, and venomous”.

The room is absolutely quiet for the next moment or so, Ian seeming to fall into the background as the other two men start to talk rapidly, Mickey bundling the corpse into one of the shredded bed sheets while Ezio and him agree this needs to be investigated as quickly, and quietly, as possible.

-

Ian can barely swallow down his dinner that night at the grand table, every so often glancing down at his guests who are eating and drinking and laughing and talking to see who seems surprised to see him still breathing. If the traitor is at the table, they are doing a damn good job of hiding their guilt.

Guard rotation was immediately arranged of course, with Ian’s most trusted going to guard his and his siblings’ rooms, as he did not want them knowing about what had happened. With Lip’s accusatory temper, hell even Fiona’s for that manner, the whole castle would know about the assassination attempt in no time. And he didn’t want Debbie being terrified of her own bed at night.

But the worst part of it all was the fact that Mickey had to leave almost as soon as they had arrived back at the caste and discovered the nasty surprise, Ian only learning now that he had been trying to hide his absence from his “master”.

Ian shudders just thinking of another man owning Mickey in that way. The mere thought of it makes him sick. And he should be here, with his king, not preparing for the fight that could end his life.

It was a very somber night for the king of Νότια πλευρά indeed.

-

“And where the hell have you been?” Obelius spits, flecks of sour saliva hitting a disgusted Mickey’s face as his master corners him like a pitbull in the hallway. He appeared to be near the end of a drunken rampage, and Mickey has no doubt he’s the reason why.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Mickey answers as calmly as possibly, wiping his face off with the back of his hand. He hadn’t expected the man to be wandering about looking for him, but clearly he underestimated his master’s stake in the competition.

Obelius puts one hand against the cobbled stone wall to stop Mickey from moving away from him, the other still clutching a sloshing bottle of wine as he points a rough finger at him, “Think I’m stupid eh? Ungrateful wretch. You might be able to charm someone else into doing your work, but I know you ain’t been here. Time to face the consequences”.

Mickey is silent at this point, neither lying nor admitting to the accusation. It was best to just appear submissive in these situations, as difficult as that was for him. And besides, Obelius wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

Even though Mickey was fairly certain Baron hadn’t ratted him out, he had still gambled by being away for more than a day or two, and he had lost.

He takes his lashings in almost complete silence, his eyes merely squinting to hold back stinging eyefuls and his teeth gritting harder with each loud stroke of the leather hitting deeper into the pale flesh of his back. Obelius stands before him to watch with satisfaction, simply raising a hand when he feels Mickey had had enough.

He didn’t want his soon to be champion to be limping for more than a day or two. The tournament was next week.

As strong as he was, Mickey felt a very real ache inside his chest as he laid in bed that night on an empty stomach, allowing his raw back a chance to dry out and begin to scar. An ache that he wasn’t next to his king tonight, keeping him safe.

-

“Oh, Mickey…”

Ian’s eyes well up with sympathetic tears as he looks at his lover’s bare and reddened back a few nights later, gently rubbing in an expensive cream over the marks to help the skin heal faster, and take away the pain.

Mickey just lets out a sigh, putting his face down into one of the pillows adorning Ian’s bed. The destroyed mattress and sheets had been replaced, new and equally luxurious ones now in their place. He finds Ian’s scent isn’t as worn into these ones yet, though so he turns his head to look at his king instead.

“Love you” he murmurs, letting out a yawn. He had been worked brutally in the training ring, unable to sneak away for the first few days after returning, and he was still planning to be back long before dawn. Still, even part of a night with Ian was worth it.

“I love you too” Ian answers, bending to give him a soft kiss on the lips. And then, gently trailing down Mickey’s back, he peppers him with more, like each kiss could perhaps heal him a little more.

“I want to be here with you” Mickey admits to him, unable to keep it in, “I’m worried about you”.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better…” Ian answers, straightening upwards, “Ezio discovered the traitor through the guard’s intel. He was a servant, and frankly he only spoke the truth to spare his own life. He’s now banished of course”.

“Shoulda skinned him alive” Mickey grumbles, unsatisfied with that outcome.  

“He provided some valuable intel. We know his act of disloyalty was bought. And we have no doubt the man who paid him was one of Everett’s, though he could not or would not confirm that”.

“Shit” Mickey says, pushing up on his elbows to get a better look at Ian in disgust at the news, “Well I hope there’s no more pussyfooting around on this, we gotta take care of this prick”.

“Yes we do” Ian agrees, “We received word today from him, and there was no denial. The servant must have made his way back to the castle. He simply requested a meeting before the tournament, which as far as I can tell, will still take place”.

“Well he can’t pick a fight on your turf, that would be suicide” Mickey scoffs.

“Exactly. So I’m interested to hear what he has to say for himself. Of course, we will have to come to a formal agreement of battle, and he will be allowed to retreat and prepare his army. We are already preparing ours”.

“You royal people, always playing by the rules” Mickey grimaces, shifting over to make room for Ian beside him in the bed as they settle in to sleep for a few hours, “I’d like to gut him while he stuffs his fat face watching the tournament. Guess I’ll have to settle for gutting his champion”.

“Do what you have to my love” Ian says, lifting the cover over the two of them as they move to lean into each other, the two men sharing one last kiss before they close their eyes, “As will I”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prettyyyy sure this is the most dramatic fic I've ever written. But, it feels like it fits with the time.


End file.
